A Poem of No Purpose Done For the Sake of Writing
Dry skin caused by frozen winter winds
Caused by over washing
Too much caution given to cleanliness
The rough ridges distinctly defined
Will soon go away with care and time
These epidermal deserts
Are greatly in need of an oasis
Some lotion for lubrication
To make the redness in the deserts turn to tan
And now I wonder, why?
Why am I writing about my hands?
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