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These Tainted Hands
June 4, 2019
I wash my hands constantly. Day after day.
But still, they never come clean…
Is my soul tainted? Tainted by the sins
that I have cast upon many?
These tainted hands. Weathered and dripping
with the blood of the many innocents.
Innocents that this soul took the life of.
You see, the taint, it talks to me. It comforts me,
tells me that everything is alright,
and that I don’t need to be afraid, afraid of
drawing the knife once more and…
Stabbing… Evermore…
© Calvin C., Salt Lake City, UT
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