Melancholy Poetry

Shower

Take a shower.
It's been a week since I've showered.
The powders and perfumes no longer hide my smell.
The stench is strong but only noticed by me for the moment,
Yet she is telling me to just take a shower.
She was nothing more than a shadow so I ignored her.

Week two without a shower and the grime is felt as I walk.
I can feel the impurities begin to Create rashes that irritate my eczema. I find ways to subtly scratch in public But do nothing more that scratch.
When I scratch my skin burns like a small flame is eating from my wounds and making them worst.
She is demanding that I take a fucking shower.
She was now a full figure but blackened so I couldn't see her.
I could feel her reaching for me but brushed her touch away.

Week three and the rashes become small sores, resembling mosquito bites.
Week three was the night I woke up to the feel of insects crawling on me.
Week three was the night I saw her clearly as she screamed to me:
Please take a shower!
I looked at myself as I cried over my head.
My tears landed on my face as the insects I felt on me could be seen on me.
My skin was decaying, rotting away; but not on me, just me.

I shot from my bed and rushed to the shower and scrubbed until I felt that small flame all over.
I was finally in the shower but still felt like me.
I scrubbed each rash, cleaning them so they could breathe and heal but they weren't healing.
The smell was gone but I smelt of nothing but the water a lathered my soap with.
I looked up to still see me crying and rotting.
Get in the shower (7x)!

Week four...
I'm still sitting in the shower watching me scream for me to shower.