the taste of it bitter in my mouth
the grime from the scrubbing
finally washed from them
brittle nails bent and broken
from the cleaning of the filth
filled with the mess
that I scrapped from here
So I cut them short
uneven and rough
smoothed down by the scrubbing
still tasting of bleach
making me wonder idly
how much i'd have to drink to die
I taste bleach under my fingernails
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