Forever in a mess.

When i was young,
And having fun,
I’d pour thick black dye,
Over my golden curls,
That fell to my thigh.
I’d watch it
As it hit,
The side of the bath,
And laugh,
At my messiness.
Later, as it dried,
i’d hear my dad curse,
as he scrubbed at the wall,
And the little black spots,
that wern’t playing ball.
Now, i’m an adult,
With a bottle of red,
and i remember the words that he said,
As i scrub at the walls, the floor and the tiles,
I can’t help, but smile,
My shoulders are red, my arms a delicate design of red vines that spread across my chest,
I’ve never known anyone,
Get in such a bloody mess!

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