I’ve done some things I’m not proud of
My hands smell of shame, unworthiness
No matter how hard I wash and scrub away
It seems the stain is here to stay.
I’ve done some things I’m not fond of
The guilt lingers in my atmosphere daily,
As if to haunt me,
To mock me,
To take the blade and
Twist it.
I get it.
This is my own doing.
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