Most of my white clothes have never been worn
I'm afraid of I'll stain them
Forced to spend my midnights washing them out
Until the cloth permanently wears a shadow of red
Stitches expecting a new stain while saving the water bills
Wearing a predetermined blotch rather than making one myself
I might as well buy stained, white clothes
Yet my fingertips are still tainted in faint hues of red
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