Bleach

Bleach

A Poem by Fire&Ice

My mother used a lot of bleach. 
Enough bleach to burn holes right through me. 
She'd see the stains in me, 
the stains in her. 
She'd drizzle some detergent, 
then baste us in bleach. 
For a time, we were both colorless. 
and that's when I left. 

© 2012 Fire&Ice


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Added on October 24, 2012
Last Updated on October 24, 2012
Tags: pain, bleach, stains, stained

Author

Fire&Ice
Fire&Ice

MA



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