You Can Never Wash It Off Poem by Nate Ritchie

Try as I may,
I cannot wash it away;
This imperfection - this flaw.
At the wall, it makes me want to claw.

I stand in the shower
For half an hour
In water scalding hot,
But it is all for naught.

On me, it is a stain;
The source of all my pain.
So, I scrub and scrub
In the overflowing tub.

There is no hope.
No amount of soap
Can make me clean
And feel serene.

Giving up, I am on the brink.
Then, I go to the sink.
To at least clean my palms.
Ah, how the water calms.

Yet, for my hands so tough,
It is not enough
To purge their past.
To violent anger, I fall fast.

I slam my fists and get meaner,
Soiling my humble demeanor.
Was my transformation an act? Am I a liar?
Then, I think of fire.

My lesson, I have not learned.
My shame, it can only be burned.
Then! Then, I can be free
From binding misery!

Tonight! Tonight is the night.
To myself, I shall set light.
Liberating my spirit
Is the only way to cure it.