My Tragedies

Clean

My body reaches dirt again,
Sweat and tears drip onto a cold floor,
I stand fast in my agony,

I let my drapes fall to the ground,
Pale body, full view in the cracked mirror,
My eyes meet my own,

Hands drift along a bumpy surface,
A surface I dream of ripping apart,
I fantasize of mutilating these tumors,

Before thought even reaches mind,
In my hand again, it's in my flesh again,
Dripping down my arms again,

I stare at myself for what feels like hours,
It never changes, never becomes me,
It's all the same tragedy,

I can't bear to see anymore,
I step into a shower, scolding hot water,
I pray it burns the flesh from my bones,

My eyes are shut so tightly it hurts,
My poison mingles with the water,
Streaming down my monstrosity,

I turn the squeaky faucet,
The lava stops caressing my body,
I step into a misty hell,

My curtains are lifted over my shoulders,
Relief is flooding over my waves,
I cover up my glossy scars,

I get down on my knees,
With me comes a brand new towel,
I scrub up my blood, my tears, my filth,

I stand and face myself,
My eyes are glazed over,
My heart is broken,
My glass is cutting,
But, at least,
I'm clean.