The Unholy Harlot

She was a clever girl.  But lost and succumbed to the darkness inside her.

On the outside a shining smile, true Angelic being who lived to love.

Inside asking the mirror, “Am I beautiful?  Am I usuable?”

Undercover of darkness, she gave others the boost they needed to make it to the next day.  Dark silent deeds only Night could comprehend.

A toy.  A play thing.  Lovely enough to tarnish, ugly enough to hate.

Recklessly giving into the desires.  Recklessly bound to others, giving them what they wished as they wished it.

She was a broken, frustrated shard of glass.  Her sins innumerable to count.

Somehow undesired by all who would treat her right, twisted and broken – settling for less.  Always so much less.

The Perfect One never came.  He never rescued her from the tower.  The dragon was destroyed, but the castle remained in ruins.  Never to be lit up.

A perfect little church girl.  Mary’s twisted unholy little Lamb.  All the answers on the tip of her tongue.  The perfect Youth Pastor protege.

Eyes, sullen, dark, outlined in shame.  Afraid to cut, afraid to bleed.  Wishing the inside would finally die like her black soul.

It wasn’t that she was evil.  Tainted?  Indeed.  Abandoned to play in her own imagination.  Creating beautiful things outside the confines of Reality.

Playing night and day, learning how to grow up.  Inside wishing she could just die.  Death must be better than all this.  Jesus loved her even if the others didn’t, yes?

Selfish, all desiring the same thing.  Giving it away to them one by one.  But only to a point.  The perfect tease.  The perfect wish. Just a taste to keep them interested, until finally she was cast aside.

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