Standing in forty-degree weather;
Water threatening to change to ice.

Perhaps, the rain will cleanse me,
And I will feel pure.

Maybe their blackened fingerprints
Will fade away from my skin.

The grease from their selfish palms
Leaving without a trace.

If I stand out in the cold showers,
The storm may sanitize my soul.

And maybe,
Just maybe...

I will forget their selfish appetites.