Sometimes, all that’s left behind is the thought that maybe you can scrub all you hate you have for yourself- off.
And you keep scrubbing long after the skin has turned raw and the scorching water burns.
Because somehow those wounds are so much better than ones that can’t be seen.
Because when you lie on your skinless back you’re reminded that you really are just human.
That you really are just skin, bones and other parts.
That you truly bleed, and hurt, and regret, and hate-