You've heard of a 'heart of glass'.
Well, mine is made of soap.
Careless hands can gut it.
Your fingernails will cut it.
You lay upon me all your grimy guilt,
Then leave me here, unrinsed, with all your filth.
I numb 99% of my own pain,
So the 1% can come eat me up again.
I'll cover you, My Dear, in soft, safe bubbles;
Neglect my own, but listen to your troubles.