Hand Wash Only


I'm washed out. Killing myself over
how to be the brightest, the one who is bold.
The burden I bear on my shoulders
the grades, the scores, the wins
feels more like boiling water
scalding my pallid skin.
Twisting, twisting, turning no longer strong like denim
my spark is fading dim.
If I could change one thing, about being washed,
it's to finally end the spin cycle I'm in.


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