Drizzle

[Guest Mora]

Drearily, the shower is started. The

Water runs cold, warm, hot, steamy, ready.

Slowly, with near pious care, or more the

Lack there of, my body is brought under

The calming drizzle. Steamy, yes, how I love

The heat in that water caressing my

Naked body. Love for the love it gives me,

Alone, might I say, is it for touching me

In such a way. The calming drizzle runs

Down over me; it cleanses me. Smoothly,

Soothingly, it purifies my very

Being. My worries are cascaded off

My shoulders, my weight becomes lighter. For

A great while I stand, relaxed, calmed

At one with myself. I feel clean as can be.

For safety, I make sure I am. A speck,

A speck, I declare I have found a flaw.

Briefly scrubbing the afflicted area

Will alleviate any grievances

Against my body. A scrubbing against

Me has proven ineffective. Well then,

A scouring shall do the trick. I must not

Be pushing hard enough, the speck is still

Sitting on me. Just three more minutes of

This and it will be off. A speck, a speck,

I see the flaw! Scourge the dirt and yet it

Remains insistent on maintaining its

Position. Why?! My skin peels off of my

Body; the dirt is ever present. Scourge

The blemish; it will leave me then, just three

More minutes. The water has gone red; yet

Dirt is still upon my body. Scour, Scourge,

Purge, Purify! I must rid myself of

This unholy defect. Pain sears up me in

My red shower. A speck, a speck insists

Upon being there, between my legs. Why?!

Red drizzle runs down me, pain runs up me;

Yet the speck remains unshaken from its

Chosen spot. Wrath, wrath of the heavens shall

I curse on this scrap. My eyes go blind but

A speck, a speck is still there. My arms tire

But a speck, a speck is still there. My legs

Collapse but a speck, a speck is still there.

My conscience fails me but a speck, a speck

Is still there. Blackness engulfs my mind but

A speck, a flaw, a blemish is still there.

Why?!

[Guest Michelle M]

That's really good, I like the flow of it, even if it is a bit dark. Does the person in the poem have OCD?

[Guest kristan]

you end with the question "why"? without the reasoning behind the meaning of your metaphor in your poem then the question could not be asked.