The shower is strangely therapeutic.

It provides a sense of comfort by the
Ever-flowing sound of strong sprinkles
As it envelops my head into the serenity
That surrounds the bath.
And as it gives me leave to run far away
From the books that I must read and the words I must say
And the duties that make my responsibility
I find much, much protection from an identity I must be.

The shower is strangely therapeutic.

As it allows me to sit and wander underneath
The umbrella of water sprinkles that rush quickly.
Which is ironic:
Because the umbrella means to protect from water sprinkles.
And as I scrub every strand of hair
And force out every speck, follicle, and minute detail of the dirt
So creepily hidden beneath the fair, beige skin
I find much comfort in sitting, still;
Underneath the strangely therapeutic shower.

And it calms me, this shower.
It brings me to an opportunity to forget myself for a moment
And in the process,
Cleansing me and embracing me
Without an overly-possessive entrapment
But with a free, open space for to me to exit at any time I require.

The shower is strangely therapeutic.

And as I step out again of the long shower
Wrapped tightly in a big, fuzzy, warm towel
I find that I am nourished
And prepared once again to re-enter reality.