I cleaned them one
Time. I thought I was done
I even dried them on a white towel
They were dry, well
They seemed clean
They should have been

Until I stepped on a white floor
I hadn't stepped outside the door
So I wondered where I got all that mud
Like I'd been walking miles
Now tracking dirt on my mother's white tiles
I wiped the dirt
Kneeling on my skirt
And got up with a smile
That lasted but a while

I cleaned them twice
I lathered
I rinsed
I repeated
They were clean indeed!
Then the test came again
I was ready, for I believed Not in working in vain
But I failed it yet again
And even worse
It felt like a curse
I tracked blood

Miss Fit [the lady king]