dcwilson

I washed my face every day. Over and over I scrub. And after I am foamed in bubbles, I dunk my head in the tub I use all sorts of soaps, With cold water and with hot, My face may start to peel or blister, Yet clean? I am not! My eyes are beginning to burn. My cheeks are getting sore. But I’m not happy with the outcome; I’ll wash it once more. You’d think I’d be satisfied, But that is not the case, I do not like the look of me. I cannot stand my face. So once again I dip in, And lather up anew. This time I must be better! One more time will do! But I look up to my mirror. And in dismay I scoff; I could