I have never written or performed a spoken word before; this will be my first one! Hope you enjoy!
We are all gods and goddesses of our own temples. This body, this mind, these intellectual souls intertwining within themselves creating beautiful entities.
Yet we fail to accept the strength we all have. Allowing our potential to falter, inevitably to crumble before our own eyes taking with it the adoration we had built for ourselves.
Succumbing to a society of depression craving, anxiety-riddled individuals. With those in power who proclaim it’s an illness we have. A mental disorder we have obtained.
So take the pills, feed into each other’s dwindling fight, taking with it the light we once held so tightly. Consistently reminded its all in our minds, festering to scratch that itch.
But that itch you’ve been craving is your potential wanting to get out, to be freed from the chains you’ve bound it in. This temple of yours is decaying, rotting away on the stench of the unproclaimed glory
You must look in the mirror, all those lumps, and bumps you’ve grown to hate, and state:
I am a goddess in pure form; I am the power, the life, the divine symbol of love. I may be weak now, but soon I will rise.
And on those nights where I’m weeping in my bed, drowning my eyes in pools of tears I do not need somebody to wrap their arms around me and tell me everything will be okay. Because I’d be damned if I didn’t already know I’d rise the next day stronger than my weak eyes did feel. My mother didn’t raise a woman who would fall a slave to dependency, those who caress their way in to make you feel important like you need them the way a baby needs it’s mother’s milk. We are no longer children who need to be cradled, we are the society of individuals who will amount to unfathomable greatness once we realize the energy we contain within these vessels, these temples, these bodies of ours.
I am a goddess, and to all those who scoff and mock me, one day you will rise too and see you are a goddess of your own creation.