I think I always knew I was a little bit messed up in the head,

 

See with me being so quiet and all as a child

 

They’d look me in the eye

 

Say “Oh, don’t worry, dear, the Lord gives all!”

 

But if the Lord gives all, where is my happiness? 

 

They look at me like an outcast

 

Just because of the chemical imbalance in my head

 

Their stares just scream at me, glance at me like I just

 

Didn’t pray hard enough

 

Talk about how the Lord delivers us through our storms

 

Sure, we all have storms in our lives

 

Yet it’s me who’s drowning in the flood waters

 

And sure, you can talk about yours and how Joshua 1:9 is the inspiration for our generation

 

But may I just ask you to grow the fuck up?

 

Yeah, storms will pass

 

But what needs to be understood is the wreckage it leaves behind

 

Stop talking to me like I’m a dumb adolescent who keeps getting into shit

 

Because if I’m the dumb teenager you’re the dumb adult who can’t keep their nose out of it.

 

Yeah, I couldn’t get out of bed for a week, congratulations

 

Thanks for my pointing out my ghost of humiliation

 

I think you deserve an award. 

 

But what pisses me off the most isn’t the walk or the sad talk 

 

it is the way you raise your hands at a song about strength and storms

 

And you act like you’re still in it when in reality I’m left alone with it

 

And your convincing words of laziness and self-destruction. 

 

I couldn’t even look at myself for an entire fucking year,

 

Couldn’t look at any of my perfections.

 

Couldn’t appreciate my split-ends and stretchmarks and scars,

 

Couldn’t appreciate my my beauty or the gorgeous accidents,

 

Couldn’t begin to comprehend the amazing purposes. 

 

No, instead I would just keep at it,

 

Keep at it until my nails broke down into pieces 

 

And a scarlet stream begins to flow. 

 

You talk about God and how my body is a temple

 

Holy Holy Holy is He, thine who could have spared me the fucking trouble

 

But allowed me to fucking suffer instead.