God still knows my name

Mom says, “You’re a good girl, don’t forget to pray,”

But I look in the mirror and I fade away.

They talk about heaven and who gets to go,

But if I told the truth, would they still love me so?

I hide my voice, I pull my hair,

Try to breathe in all the air.

In my room I’m someone new,

The me I wish they only knew.

And I whisper, “God, can You still see me?”

When I’m lost in who I’m supposed to be.

They say You made me wrong, but I don’t feel shame,

‘Cause deep down I know You still know my name.

Dad reads the Bible every Sunday night,

Talks about darkness, and what’s “not right.”

But when he closes his eyes to pray,

I ask You quietly, “Can You make a way?”

They see their daughter, soft and small,

But I’m standing ten feet tall.

In my dreams I cut my hair,

And breathe a world that doesn’t stare.

And I whisper, “God, can You still see me?”

When I’m lost in who I’m supposed to be.

They say You made me wrong, but I don’t feel shame,

‘Cause deep down I know You still know my name.

If You knit me together, then You know my soul,

Every secret piece that makes me whole.

So when they say I’m broken, I look above,

And wonder if You smile with love.

And I whisper, “God, I know You see me,”

You made me braver than they believe.

Maybe one day they’ll see the same,

The boy You knew before I came.

I’m still Your child, I’m still the same,

And You still know my name.