Wash Day

It’s wash day, 
time to wash my hair
It’s curly, loud, bolder then me 
revealing myself to my reflection
bare arms, bare breast
Bare legs, bare chest
exposed to no one but own eyes
unleash the wild nest
removing hair ties, ties that held sheltered swirls 
hair is dry, scars are fresh
flesh is dry, thoughts are fresh
let the shower run
The platform beneath suffocates like quick sand
Filling these lungs in hurry, fog filling the room quickly
Hot water, I step into the heat where I can barely stand
drench hair swiftly whilist arms, thighs, mind is fire
It’s burning, the water hurts or is it just in the head
raise a hand to reach for shampoo 
Realizing all they do is stare at my veins
Why still scared of seeing these wrist
The wrist self created, left painted
A beauitful painting that captures ones self
A healed, dried piece , unlike myself
clench the cleansing soap with these fist
Attempting to scrunch and wash away pain
Conditionering the damage and combing 
Combing every rat out the nest
The water, the tears, the skin, the exposure
Healing is closure, healing is a border
A border that is locked unable to reach yet
Last step, rinse, scrunch, stop Wet. 
Tired, exhausted, the shower is off
Hair is soft, being cleansed in acid 
If beauty is pain
Then rip out these veins