Memories, permanent like bloodstains,
Bleach scrubs, but the residue remains.
Forgiving holds the key, yet pain sustains.
I long to be clean,
Crave to be seen.
My messy room mirrors my mind,
Frantically scrubbing images to find—
A semblance of sanity, a glimmer of hope.
So I sit idle, in silent chaos, waiting for it to
Elope.