I squeezed you like an old used rag,
Your filth, the liquid gray.
My heart to dry I hung on peg—
Forlorn, to slow decay.

I cleansed myself of anguish, true,
Charisma made to chain.
The footprints of your soul I rue;
Its silhouette I rein.

Alas! You plunged yourself herein
This vessel taint and taupe.
Your dark intentions wash my skin
And once again I mope.