When you hear the words : mentally ill
What comes to your mind?
Crazy? Sociopath? A person who kills?
Schizo? Paranoid? Maybe kind?
As an anxious bipolar I have heard it all
But no let's not take the time to recall
I hear enough at my security job
That when I leave my head throbs.
What a colorful charade the church plays
We're a home for the spiritually broken
I will never measure up these days
All of my prayer requests stay unspoken
An old church friend didn't want to be scrutinized
Whilst being her bridesmaid I was institutionalized
I was replaced in her bridal party swiftly
But outcasted from her life indefinitely.
The small remarks push me to the edge
I never ask for your remorse or pity
I can be sympathetic or witty
Even so don't wonder why you found me on a ledge.
