Stains

Some days mistakes
feel like stains
on my soul
a filth I can't
scrub clean
with good deeds

Shame that saturates
the once white linen
of my small life
no amount of bleach
can undo the
damage done

I've always struggled
with shades of grey
one slight flaw
and I am forever
sullied and beyond
redemption

But the soul is not
a garment that I wear
or a soiled sheet
that can be
thrown out
and replaced

The soul is eternal
it cannot be tarnished
by earthly errors
there is always room
to make amends and
uncover my light once more

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