Small

Small, Small, Small
And i capitalist the eS so you know it is god.
Not the hairy bearded man, morals and imposing threats that leer in the clouds
But a hairless, nymph like creature that glows upon beckoning
Upon starving and upon measuring
not lecherous nor unholy
Its sugar and spice and all things light
Not snips, snails, touches, hands grabbing, pictures taken
Innocence stolen, breaking in of my frail bones
Its Small, Small, Small
It reverts me back to when i was winsome, precious and dainty
That is how you liked me best, no?
Or was it my premature blooming and malleable mind you found so appealing?
Dont answer, i have my answer now
Its not god, its Small