I am everyones dirty rag
as they wipe their hands on me
cast aside in a filthy bag
soiled, used and stained
only so much washes away
permenantly marked unclean
What is suffering, my friend
How much can I take
before I scream and bleed
Can I break my mind
by destroying the tortured spirit
When they're finally done
what part of me will be freed
So many scars ago
there might have been a chance
for standing up, fighting numbly
Do I have the strength
as I pick up the pieces once again
shattered figment rising deadened
Why am I still breathing, impossibly
I am the dirty doormat
lying here to clean your souls
grinding grime into my hide
tattered, torn and wasted
I am what nobody wants inside
after they walk on me to enter
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