I am weak, I know.
I am not the “perfect” woman
Who always knows the right thing to think, say and do.
I speak when i should be silent,
Do things contrary to the way they were ordered,
By culture, religion and family.
I can be lazy, or bitchy or damn right crazy some times.
Despite this, am creative I know,
My mind spins in unexplainable circles.
Sometimes, my ideas are very unconventional,
Too far outside the box.
My spirit is strong though even my heart is weak.
I dream big dreams and when I love, I love.
I work every day to better myself,
Chipping every day at my imperfections.
I know I may look like just a piece of glass to you
But inside am a diamond being cut into shape.
Imperfection chipping into perfection.
Am a masterpiece still being painted on canvas.
God is the artist and I am the paint.
I will impact and be drawn into the landscape
Of my family, my spheres of influence and my country.
The world is a canvas on which I shall be not just a speck of paint
But a whole array of colour.
At the end of my life I know it shall be said,
Look what the master painted!”
So I fight the good fight and run the race,
Because I know my crown awaits me.