Regina stares at the unmarked envelope in her hand. No postage, no return address. Just a simple, "Regina" on the front. What idiot is foolish enough to break into my car? She thought. She stared at it for a while longer before taking the note out. It was a poem.
Peel My Skin.
Let me show you
My sin.
The dirt sticks like glue
I can't wash away.
Dreams of her then
Dreams of them
Dreams of monster
Dreams of those days
I can't wash away.
Am I to blame
When tiny steps walked there
To indulge in his shame
He said it's okay
So laid, took, dreamed, I
Good girl, was I
Good girl, am I
Peel My Skin.
See My Sin.
How long do we hold on?
Until we forgive those tiny steps
-A Sinner