I go to Church about every other Sunday.
Then I’m facing the mirror again every Monday.
If I don’t try on my dress the night before,
With anger I’ll scream, not make it out the door.
I always feel I owe them an explanation.
A black sheep in this Congregation…
I’m fighting a battle that they cannot see.
There’s a dark war going on inside of me.
My black, leather Bible is shiny, looks new.
I hurry past Greeters to find my back pew.
I’d do it over, and over, do it over again.
Be baptized for Jesus to wash away my sins.
Fifteen years ago, I did right when I gave my life to Christ.
But a Bipolar whirl shook me, every moment became a fight.
Mania and depression messed up that sweet girl.
But, I didn’t know in that clam was a pearl!
So much happened that I did not plan.
But I know someday we will all understand.
I’m pressing on, I’m working, and being all that I can be.
For I know I can do all things through Him that strengthens me!