Wash, wash
till the water
is no longer tinted red
wash, till
the dirt carved under your nails
is sweeping swiftly through the drains
wash,
wash the sin beneath your tongue
wash the tears that you shun
wash the pain, wash the hurt
wash the battle you have lost
dry the reminiscence
from your skin, that will
never be clean enough
for stains seen only by you
and scars to wrap around your soul
to keep you waking every night
for the eternity of your
never ending
life.
YOU ARE READING
Existent
PoetryHighest rank: #23 In poetry. A compilation of Poems about love, heart break, depression and everything in between really. Black, white, and of course, a dose of grey.
