Wounds to Scars

This poem isn’t for you
This poem is for me
Do you want to go to church with me?
She was happy, pick any church I don’t care
They’ll all be great, they’ll all care
Made enough promises so I was there
I’m the guy seated four rows back
Being constantly yelled at by the pastor
Little does she even know
My whole life is one big disaster
I thought this would make it better
But the taste it leaves me with is bitter
Why doesn’t he say who I’m in God
All he does is say who I’m not
Because he says depression is a curse
That bipolar people are demon possessed
I didn’t come here to be pushed down & pressed
I came to get this hopelessness off of my chest
I thought that message was great today
I wish that pastor was my father she’d say
I keep wishing he wasn’t while I walk away
I shouldn’t be feeling like this
Still hurting from the past
I cannot heal like this
Some day I hope to be left alone
That all this will be worth it all

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