a poem by Wienke Niedermanner

I wash my hands in innocence and sanity,
You bathe yours wet in reckless, tense profanity,
Cut off the laughs we once had so joyously,
I wash my hands in innocence and loyalty.

Go on and plot my death like you can’t wait to grieve,
Forget-me-nots are placed around my bed beneath,
I hope you gather courage to move past your crime,
And past our town, before you are condemned this time.

I wash my hands in innocence and empathy,
Your vest is soaked with crimson lakes you take from me,
You leave the scene as if you never cared for me,
You wash your hands in ignorance, unfaithfully.