So here I am,
Scrubbing off my sins with a
bottle of bleach,
A dollar a gallon is reasonable for
these ghosts haunting me.
I scrub and scrub,
It's not enough.
They won't let go,
Like the toughest dirt stain in the
middle of my wounded mind.
Just go away.
If I say I'm fine that's a lie.
Can't you see the stains I wear?
They're quite a despair.
My whole life is one big chore,
One mess after another like a
filthy whore.
My innocence was torn apart,
I abhor this familiar scent of
loneliness.
I stain my shirt once more,
Can't see how many times this
blood stain galore has torn apart
my shirts,
They're beginning to fleet
everywhere,
My shoes,
Pants,
Anywhere that's content.
Too bad I'll never wash out this
plague,
It stays with me and I'm afraid,
Afraid of what I have made.
I caved myself in this cave of rage
and I can't get out.
I shout and I shout,
Wishing someone would listen,
but no one ever does.
A lady approached me wearing
all black asking what's the fuss,
She swore she'd come back but I
guess I'm not enough.

-----

This deep full, beautiful poem is by the lovely @olisykeyes

Go check them out and their poetry book:

http://my.w.tt/UiNb/c3WKUMJFmE