I'm a pig,
A dirty pig,
Covered in mud, filthy and foul,
A body, infested by demons,
In a squeaky clean silvered cage,
With running water,
Hitting my skin like a poisoned arrow,
In an attempt to uproot the dirt from my hair's root,
To be clean, presentable and appealing to look at,
And yet,
Without my mud,
Patch by patch
My skin burns and my soul aches.