I fill so dirty.
Stained by the pain of my past.
Looking like a dalmatian.
With spots everywhere.
Who can see this white dress of mine?
It is filled with the blemishes of my past.
It tells my story.
But who is the author of this tragic beginning?
Is it white?
Who can tell?
Covered in darkness.
I need a stain remover.
Only His blood can wash it away.
There is hope.
He can make it new again.
