I enter the hall look up the 18 stairs that lead to despair... get to the door jiggle the keys to find noone cares,
sling my purse in a chair, give a soft sigh and put down the daily burdens I bare.
I take off my clothes and shed my days mask
search a minute for comfort in a glass, yet all I fumble upon is my empty flask
there's a bottle on the stand but its just an empty past.
I jump in the shower to wash away a little pain and some sin
wondering now... who is really in this skin
fearfull the soap cant cleanse whats trully lieing within.
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