A Broken Image?

We all have our flaws, and everyone tells you to embrace them; but I can’t embrace my worst one

I am extremely contradicting, and it kills me. I look in the mirror, and become the best coach there is to man. I tell myself:

YOU are beautiful

YOU are a queen

YOUR black is magic

But as I walk away, I don’t feel the same. The compliments just become a bunch of jumbled words

I’m so blind to them it’s like playing scrabble and not being able to find a single word among many

I wish I could believe my inner me, I wish I knew what I’m supposed to do to bring her out

But the more I try, the deeper into the abyss I fall, and become comfortable enough to believe I’m just flying downward

When in truth, I don’t know how to use my glorious wings; I don’t know how to have faith in me

When in this world, being a black woman is frowned upon. Doesn’t matter how strong I am, I am ridiculed for my mistakes, and have become my worst critic

But I am working on change; I Stopped feeling sorry for myself

Now? I stand up. Not quietly. I Fight. I Let my voice echo, make the walls shake like the Goddess I am with every step; I am divinity. I am honesty's best friend and a coward's worst nightmare.

A queen made of gold and dipped in chocolate

And now that I truly believe that, I don’t need a mirror ;)