the water burns more than the soap,
but of course the soap still hurts.
cleansing,
eating at the bacteria,
hissing at the impurity of my skin.
the water hates my ankles.
the water hates my legs.
the water hates my sides.
the water hates my hand.
i betrayed it first,
so this is its revenge.
remorse!
REMORSE!
YOU ARE READING
the beekeeper.
PoetryVent Poetry Warning: Strong language Trigger warnings: Schizophrenia Self Harm Abuse (physical, verbal, and sexual) Gore
