How did you manage

to be the perfect girl?

Didn’t you ever feel trapped

by the snakes

of our scaly world?

Mary did you cry

when you were called a liar?

Or taste the blood of bitten tongue

to ignore thorns in the rose briar?

Mary did you

want to fall apart

as your life was

falling into place?

Did you say “of course lord”

with tears streaming

down your face?

Did you drown a little

before He taught

you to stand the waves?

Mary did you ever doubt

He’d forgive

your mistakes?

Because I never feel perfect

or like a rose in bloom.

Or like I can dress in white

in this place

where all the monsters loom.

Or maybe you

weren’t anything

like me all.

Maybe all the sinners

assume good company

so they can stand tall.