The insides
The messy things
The neurotic thoughts
Swipe up the old aches
Gathered up discreetly
Like cobwebs in the corner
I wish soap could clean
The rash of hurting
Death can cause
Or bitter words
That float like dust
I wish soap could clean
These things and leave
Behind that ivory scent
Lingering, catching the breeze
The soiled bits gleaming
Soapy and clean
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