My head is full of charcoal
Sticky, chalky, stained
Discoloring and endless
It writhes and it pours
Out of the mouth in my skull
So scrub on your knees
My white rug is spotted
Blackness it bleeds
Yet if I’d scrub with water
The living water of Him
I find it actually lifts
And disappears onto
The chafing rag of His mercy
That doesn’t strike me where I stand
The interesting thing about charcoal
Is things come away whiter
Teeth, skin, carpet
Are fresher, snowy
Who would have thought that endless blackness
Those terrible stains
Would actually clean me
Until I shine

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