The shower can be such a soothing place
when the water washes worries away.
Hot water pounds against my frowning face
and drowns my sorrows in a scolding spray.
In this solitary booth life is plain
I’ve left used thoughts in a pile with used clothes
and as the mind’s murk trickles down the drain
a cleanliness of thought can now compose.
I’d stand in this spot ‘til the water chills
but I know I must return to the world
where I cannot afford to chase my thrills
lest my efforts be stained and unfurled.
They say a shower hides when someone cries
but what happens next when the water dries?
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