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Dishes
The dishes pile up stained with the day to day of life
Her hands are chapped and dry withered from washing them
Dishes of food, dishes of mundanity
relentless dishes calling to be cleaned
Dishes prepared with love dishes for the family
dishes smashed in anger, broken in frustration
the dishes are her forte, she knows the dishes well
her hands are red and inflamed
sore from scrubbing at the remnants of her life
how many dishes has she washed anyway
how many hours of her life has she lost
Unseen she scurries and tidies
washing and drying, washing and dryng
swallowing her rage and her long lost dreams
The dishes are her forte, she knows the dishes well
the dirt, the leftovers, the many requests of her
washing and drying, washing and drying
but nobody cares to notice
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