You are dirty, filthy even.
You cannot be clean.
You are wild, violent and mean.
You are the inside of an ashtray,
A slave to the soot that surrounds you.
We become accustomed to it.
It is engrained in the inner fibers of ones being.
And, so,
This is a truth we all must live.
But to give in to it is a choice.
You have a voice,
One unhindered by the soot,
Which washes itself away with your words.
Those that reveal your true identity.
Put your foot down,
Soot has an inevitable, infinitive grasp on you,
It can clench body and mind,
But, it cannot grasp your soul.
Only you can decide what, if anything,
Goes into that particular hole.

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