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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