The Girl

The girl hasn’t discovered her wings yet,
not realizing the strength of her soul
nor realizing that was God’s gift to her survival
so, she walks around as a caterpillar,
unaware of who she is
she hasn’t taken off her veil yet,
and woken up next to a man
she is a virgin of spirit,
even if there have been dozens of men
none loved her, and to be loved,
in the act of intimacy is a sacred act
the demons call her “slut”,
and she calls herself, “whore”
not understanding she is the Lord’s bride,
and He sees her as washed
She hears the whispers that drive her urge
to stick nails up her arms
she bears the wounds of her attacks on herself,
falsely believing she is worthless
demons laugh, seeing her take razors
her thighs undiscovered, she wears the razors on them,
deep slashes, still fresh and unproven
she has the obsessive desire to be punished
to be nailed to her private cross,
not realizing the Lord has done it for her
everything spins around in her like a blender
to shred her decency and dignity
she feels God has abandoned her
even though He never will
demons talk of legalism and works
working your way to heaven or hell
they hand her more razors to crucify
her flesh with
and they laugh some more
grace is a word in a dictionary to her
her prayers never seem to reach past
the ceiling
in desperation she clings to her only friends,
the razors
who smile with their deceptive shiny
silver teeth
stroking her beautifully,
yet cutting tissue
with every touch
she bleeds
straight lines of blood,
rows of faithful and beaten soldiers
rushed down her thigh
past her knees
leaping to their premature deaths
she pushes the razor in like a penis
a few times until she grows weary
of the pain it causes her
she never cries publicly anymore
her mother told her not to make a spectacle
of herself
the girl hates her black coarse hair
men don’t respect her hair
this hurts they never touch it
ashamed she wears a baseball cap
to hide her ugly hair
now, she has shaved it off like a man
to pretend she is not even a woman
the girl has other secrects she hates
too much flesh
she considers it a huge blemish
the worst scar she can think of
to avoid that she rushes to the bathroom
sticking a finger like a straw to suck the food
out of her body
not realizing God puts no pre-requisites on
He extends His arms out to her,
she misses Him,
her bloodshot eyes blind her
the girl weeps when no one is around
she inspects her nude body in front
of a broken mirror
her skin is bronze, and shiny like mud
nobody wanted the muddy girl
maybe they thought she was filthy
God offers to cleanse her with hyssop,
and make her whiter than snow
but she hates Him right now
and blames Him for her loneliness
she has a doll she sleeps beside
her name is Emma
Emma is her constant companion
she takes her everywhere,
she’s had her for six years
it was a gift that was hard to unwrap
it took twenty long hours to pull
all the wrappings off
the experience of being the one another
depends on changed her forever
children are a heritage of the Lord
and God is a father to the fatherless
the girl creates characters to keep her
company, to guard the castle of her heart,
her bottle is a diet two liter soda,
all she has to inebriate her
her lover Vladimir,
who she threw away
sits beside her,
one of the demons in disguise
the girl takes the raw meat from under
her breast and puts it under her pillow
she protects her lumpy clump of blood
though people falsely believe she wears it
as a fresh badge,
she fools the world and herself
but never the Lord
the girl is a chameleon and changes
able to love many times and many things
her greatest gift is her ability to love others
her greatest flaw is her inability to love
people can change with grace
In the meantime,
the girl exists a prisoner of her fantasies
she cannot escape or will not
and is trapped in a world of illusions
in another place,
where dragons and knights are neighbors
she foolishly believes she has escaped the
rules of morality and has created her own values
God doesn’t exist there,
But God has a way of finding the girl
He always has


The Girl

Matty B. Duran

Joined July 2009

  • Artist
  • Artwork Comments 12

Artist's Description

“There is therefore now no condemnation to those who are In-Christ, who do not walk according to the flesh but in the Spirit.”
(Romans 8:1)

“For you did not receive the Spirit of Bondage again to fear, but you received the Spirit of adoption by whom we cry out ABBA, FATHER!.”
(Romans 8:15)


This was about myself at a younger age. About my faith in Christ.

Artwork Comments

  • EllEssDee
  • Matty B. Duran
  • lroof
  • Matty B. Duran
  • Rishani Sittampalam
  • Matty B. Duran
  • lroof
  • Matty B. Duran
  • George Coombs
  • Matty B. Duran
  • George Coombs
  • George Coombs
Matty B. Duran

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