Unsent Letters: Never A Child, Only Destroyed

If children inherit the kingdom of God, then you will not find me there. The little girl that should have been was never allowed to be one.  She was never a child, she was only a woman, her innocence stripped before she could even understand what it meant to be one.

To have a child that could inherit this kingdom I would need for her to be born again.

Youth was stolen, replaced by an unyielding rage, by the anger of knowing she was never given the chance to be anything but broken. She was buried long ago, buried under the abuse, the trauma, the suffocating need to survive.

She never existed in the way a child should, never given the grace to breathe, to be free, to find joy in the small things. No, she was born to endure, to fight, to carry the scars that no one cared to see. And so, if there is a kingdom for those pure in heart, she will never be there. Because she was only a woman first, and that girl, that child, was lost before she even had a chance to live.

No one protected her, no one fought for her. She had to become her own protector, her own savior, because in the end it was just her. A complete erasure of her worth. And now, she’s not sure what’s worse, the fact that she was abandoned or the fact that she survived it.

She was abandoned, plain and simple. Left to rot in the spaces where love should have been. No safety net, no shelter, no hand to hold. Just empty promises and silence, the kind of silence that speaks louder than any words could. And within those spaces of silence, predators got their hands on her. There was no one to hear her scream. Just the echo of her own voice, muffled by fear. She became a ghost in her own skin, a shadow of the girl she was meant to be. Her innocence stolen piece by piece until nothing was left but the silence...A silence that never truly left.

If children inherit the kingdom of God, then you won’t find me there. She was never a child. She was stolen from me, ripped away before she could even realize she was missing. Now all that's left is the emptiness of what could have been. And if there's a kingdom for the pure hearted, she’ll never claim it. Because she was never given the chance to be pure.

The joy that should have been hers replaced with fear, survival, and a loneliness too vast to articulate. She never really existed, and her spirit was torn apart long before she ever had the chance to find peace, and now, she is a ghost of what was never allowed to bloom. Torn apart before she even had the chance to know what it meant to belong to herself.

She was never given childhood, she was forced to survive it, clinging to scraps of innocence that were always slipping through her fingers. And what did she get in return? The cold, hard reality of being used until there was nothing left to give.

And if anyone dares say that she should have been grateful, let them look into the eyes of a child who was never given the chance to be one. Grateful for what? Let them see the blood on her hands that she never asked for. Let them feel the rage of a life robbed, a soul smothered. She wasn’t meant to be strong. She wasn’t meant to hold the world. But she did. She had to. And now, she's the one left with nothing but the scars of all that she never had the right to take back.

The child she was supposed to be? She never existed. And now, all that’s left is the fire of someone who knows exactly who she is, she's someone. She will not ask for a place in the world that wasn’t built for her to begin with. She will build her own kingdom from the ashes.

She’s not seeking redemption. She’s not waiting for anyone to come back and save her. She’s not asking for what should have been hers from the start.

From the wreckage she will be born again, not as the child who never was, but as the force no one can reckon with.

She will be born again not through innocence restored, because that was taken, but through the fire of her own making. Through the hands that once trembled but now build, through the voice that was once silenced but now speaks, through the love she creates for herself when the world refused to give it.

She will be born again with zero respect to those who demand gratitude for survival. She will be held by the love she chooses.

She will not beg for a place in a kingdom that never had space for her. She will carve one from the bones of everything that tried to silence her.

And she will make space for those who rise from the ruins, those who were never given a beginning but choose to create their own. She will not guard the door, she will tear down the walls building a place where the broken do not have to prove their worth to be held.

She will be born again, not as who she was but as the answer now. Not in the image of what was lost, but in the power of what she becomes. Not as a plea for redemption, but as a force that no longer needs it.

She is born again as a flame born revenant who willingly jumped into the fire of integrity, to feel the excruciating burn until there was nothing but the fertile ash of the carbon she was reduced to, and within that ash she gives life for all to be loved within their rage of lost potential and they will know all of what they could be, and by their own will they will take the forms of their own imaginations and every lost desire. This is where passion will be lit once more. It is a place of visceral truth, the truth they unrestrictedly acknowledge that burns what was old, so that the lost will have life, forever, in the home of authentic love that sees them, in freedom to be. This is where their passion will thrive by the desires of all they deserved.

Not not at the mercy of the perverted sanctuary of deceitful saints, not by the poisoned garden where virtue is just a disguise, and not by a hollow temple built on rotting morals that masquerade as righteous.

For them to be born again, and like children once more allowed the innocence and freedom to love and to be loved in return, they will live in a kingdom barred from the hubris of the self righteous. And they will call me a demon for going against their twisted order, for tearing down the gilded altars built on suffering. They will brand me as their nemesis, as a defiler of their sacred lies, because I refuse to kneel before a holiness that thrives on beneficiary extermination and the raping of my innocence. I will not beg for entry into their paradise. I will build something greater, a place where love is not a weapon, where justice does not bow to the pious frauds who maliciously and deceitfully swap the word cruelty for righteousness.

So I will give them hell, a fire forged from every truth they tried to bury, every sin they draped in virtue. No self righteous hypocrite will dare walk through the flames of the raw, unyielding awakening of atonement, because here, their masks will burn, and there is nowhere to hide. Life will thrive where I am without corruption nor deception and through integrity that does not waver, accountability that does not falter, respect that is earned, and honor that is upheld and not just spoken of. In this place, strength is not measured by domination, but by the courage to stand and to answer for one’s actions, to embody the unyielding force of rectitude, Divine order.

This demon is nothing more than a child who lost their potential, a soul shattered at the mercy of the truly wicked and corrupt. And this demon lives in truth and it speaks in truth.

So if they fear demons, they fear the very consequences of their own cruelty. They fear the ruin they created, the ghosts of the innocence they stole. They do not fear evil, they fear the reckoning of accountability of the sword of truth that I hold and give to those who are lost, so that they may have their passion again, and reclaim their life once more.

They don’t fear me because I am evil, they defame me because my light exposes their own rot beneath their golden facade. They fear integrity that does not yield, truth that does not bow, fire that does not burn for destruction but for revelation. They do not tremble at darkness, they tremble at the judgement of a light they can neither corrupt nor control.

They fear the light that isn’t their own, the brilliance that burns through their deceptions and never misses the mark as it is my own light that compels them to speak the truth that they cannot deny. I offer the clarity that shatters their illusions.

Because they do not want to take accountability for their own actions, they shame and degraded me, separated me in parts away from honor not realizing I am the justice they fear who answers to The One who is the honorable judge, The One they made a mockery of by their own charades. But how seemingly they forget, I do not answer to them. I answer His call and His alone.

But if this child is to inherit the kingdom of God, she will need to be born again, and this time I will be the one to love her.