Crippled. Handicapped. Disabled.
They try to wash me, try to scrub away at the grime. There's more than that on my weak and fragile body. There are the marks that remain from all the years of my hurt. The marks from all of the regret. And sure, they keep scrubbing, but they'll never go away. I've already tried erasing the pain.
Nothing seems to work. Nothing ever has.