Daily Prompt: Toothbrush

 

Hour after hour, I sit in a cup

On lucky days, I am infront of a mirror

Not to see me, its for you to see you.

In white rooms built of tiles,

Like churches I drip with purity

Armed with chloride down your abyss

Atop a thick pile of flesh and muscle.

My journey is fueled by a need for hygiene

Smooth like an artist

That pile is my stage, the moonwalk my dance

forwards, backwards you name it

Right and left to the tune of your stench

One stroke at a time

Rubbing everything clean

to keep the doctor away

In young mouths an old

never smelly or stinky

like a sand dog not everyday is the same

but my name will always be the same.

via Daily Prompt: Toothbrush

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