I turn the shower setting to the highest it can be,
presenting myself skin bared to the Devil or God, whoever listens best;
hoping that my flesh will fall off and with it all that I've done and do,
leaving me red and hurt but reborn, a fresh heart pumping in my chest.

Prayers unaswered, I crawl from the shower nothing but aching.
The weight of life a still a noose looped and drawn tight around my neck,
skin on fire but sapped of all my fight;
red and hurt but never anew, still nothing but the same, ever-repeating shell of a wreck.