I try to strip my troubles away.
Test the water.
Bring it to the point of boiling.
Let it steam.
Step in.
Let it try to burn my problems away.
Skin turns red.
Water runs down my back,
down my front,
Down the drain.
Scented soap.
Light on my skin,
should leave me feeling refreshed.
Clean.
Oh no.
I scrub and scrub,
try to make it all go away,
I try abolish all that is wrong
with one bar of soap.
Finally my arms grow tired,
Step out,
Wrap a towel around my
almost
cleansed self,
Stand in silence staring
at the fogged mirror.
Staying there until I start to see.
A rough outline.
To big here,
and here,
and here
oh there to.
Lose a little
there
there and
there...
Details start to come into shape.
Hair,
to dark, To average
Nose,
to small. To soft.
Skin,
to pail. To frail.
Eyes,
to sad, To accusing.
Lips,
to large, to gnawed on.
Cheeks,
To chubby, to imperfect
Nothing new.
Why do I wait,
to see the same me,
Same hair, plastered to my same old head.
Same bags, under my same old eyes.
Same skin, on my same old body.
Same "curves", on the same old places.
Same look, its just on a now cleaner body.
Why do I wait,
Try to see what people see is pretty on me?
