I set fire to the remains.
The stain still wont leave.
Two straight weeks on my knees scrubbing.
The stain still wont leave.

Its not all of it,
For the most part its more than clean.
But there is a corner.
A small crimson corner.

It's sitting there on my eye,
even when it is closed.
Even when I rub spices, sand and
the bleach from the bottle in my hands

It sits there like a sick joke.