One Loose Strand

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She squared her shoulders and stiffened her lip.
She pasted on that fake smile.
Her pain hidden from the entire world.
She'd practiced this for a while.
She sucked in her gut and held in a breath.
She steadied her trembling hand.
'Twas practically perfect, all would be fine;
If not for that one loose strand...

She tucked it back in to her tight up-do.
Struggling to hide it away.
For society screamed "Don't let it show!"
"Never allow it display."
A blemish like this would just never do-
Pressure from all the demand.
She frantically searched for a solution;
She had to fix that loose strand.

She knew of their judgements, knew of their schemes.
Knew that there'd be endless shame.
A 'dog-eat-dog' world is what we've become.
They'd forever mock her name.
She couldn't show weakness, couldn't show need.
Couldn't be anything bland.
She had to impress; had to be "wow!"
She had to hide that loose strand.

But this imperfection was hard to hide.
It was big and hard to miss.
How could she go, let society see;
While walking around like this?
She piled on the make-up, sprayed on the spray;
Trusting in only top brands.
The more she fussed, the more mess became;
Now she faced many loose strands.

She sunk to her knees, tears poured down her face.
Her worth decreased by this mess.
Her mascara ran, her face turned all red.
Her soul in blatant distress.
She must hide within, must recoil inside.
Too broken to even stand.
She must mask her face. She can't be herself.
Because of that one loose strand.

Does someone have worth with imperfections?
Do flaws determine value?
Should society say what someone means?
Should we always mask what's true?
Does true hope exist for those who bear scars?
Could anyone understand?
Are we destined to hide and mask ourselves-
All thanks to just one loose strand?

No, with conviction, I saw we do not.
We don't have to hide our face.
We can stand with assurance, thanks to God.
Upright, in light of His grace.
He determines our worth, loves each blemish.
He made you with His own hand.
His transforming work makes flaws new again;
He loves you and each loose strand.

So unmask your face, reveal each scarred part.
Stand tall in the love that He pours.
For no one can out-talk His say of you.
The worth He gave you is yours.
No matter your weight, no matter your race;
No matter what your homeland.
The Lord, He loves you, just as He made you.
Embrace you, and each loose strand.