I scrub and scrub, <br />but my hands aren't clean. <br />Their still dirty, <br />from the filth Ive seen. <br />The things Ive heard, <br />the words Ive spoke, <br />and every dirty filthy joke. <br />Although to you the dirts not seen, <br />I feel the grit in cracks between. <br />Why the strange look on your face, <br />you are in my very place. <br />You to could use a little scrub, <br />a little soap a lot of rub. <br />I'm am not speaking to demean, <br />you know yourself your hands aren't clean.<br /><br />saint cynosure ( Ken Bennight )<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dirty-hands/
