I scrub, scrub, and scrub all day and sometimes at night.

I'm the one that cleans when they start to fight.

When they say you might need therapy.

The one they come to, is me.

I use my broom to sweep away their bias thoughts.

And I'd clean up to the facts to bring peace or so I thought.

An affair, a scandal, an addiction, or abuse.

All my efforts go South, once a single word is loosed.

Next I'm called to testify to the judge.

They ask does it seem anyone held a grudge.

I cannot lie since it's simply wrong

So I say they're togetherness was as a song.

A rollercoaster with some sharps and flats.

But now it's as something covered in rats.

I tried to clean the best I could.

But some stains are just too deep.