dirty

I stole this idea from a guy on a stool preaching to me about how my heart was too dirty and weak for God.

I think you managed to do it. To make me small and pathetic. To make the worst in me ll that seems to be left. You tore me apart but never sewed me back together. You tossed me around like a tumbler or a dog toy.

But, I have moving vessels. I have blood and bones and skin. I create heat. I am anything but a toy. But, who am I to tell you that?

The girl with a dirty heart.