Slave musings

I am His. I am complete. My words. My voice. His permission.

Obedience is letting Master in. »« Little Dolls.

Reflection.

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Minds Eye.

There isn't much that we can't see.
Our reflections in the mirror screams.
And all ones doubts and troubles feared
Are shown to us; this place we bare.

It isn't just the body viewed.
The carcass shed - a mere prelude.
To what lies uncovered yet -
The secrets kept in years of debt.

The lines and creases speak such tales,
Of worried doubts and hate impaled.
Curves combined with boniness -
Scars engraved on weary flesh.

Unhealed hearts that no one hears.
Faded stains on cheeks from tears.
Calloused fingers threaded bound
Nervous arms, wrapped around.

Sheilding what we can not hide.
Not from eyes that stare and pry.
Nor from minds that see what's true.
Reflections lost, reflections new.

~His grace

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Friday,November 14,2008 at 10:43 am
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