Scrub

*scrub scrub scrub*
I hope this lofa is strong enough for us both, I hope it can give me the metaphorical strength that I lack,
I hope it scrubs the burdens off my back
And how I still have tons of homework to do
I wish I could forget about that
I hope it scrubs the accidental-or not so accidental-
blows I get every day on the subway
And the tears that never manage to make it beneath my lashes
Except for those when I'm trying to be pretty
And I'm failing.
I hope it removes all traces of the sweat that condenses for nothing
I don't want to be reminded of my disappointments anymore
Maybe if I scrub hard enough
I will get rid of those layers of fat that stick to me more than my best friend
Maybe they'll make the acne go away and I'll be pretty like the girl who stole my boyfriend
It would be nice if I could scrub the penetrating lusty stares of that man in the store
What if I scrub a shield around my body
To fend off father's daily comments that sting
And stick
And burn
But the saddest thing is that
Even if I manage to do all those things
I wouldn't be able to scrub a place that's more filthy and rusty and dusty than your attic
No matter if I scrub my outsides till my skin peels
I can't scrub my insides
I can't scrub jealousy, hatred, pain, heartbreak, failure, fear
Everything that inspired the filth on the outside
Is stuck here eternally
And no matter how much they tell you that these things are what beautifully shape you
Everything about them is ugly
And I hope I can inhale enough beauty off my metaphorical world
To balance out my dusty attic.