Drip Drip Drop

All these words inside my brain will soon be swirling down the drain.

Drip. Drip. Drop.

The blood goes down, making murky colored water.

All these words are gone.

Drip. Drip. Drop.

More and more until it fills the sink, over flowing onto the tiled floor.

My words have come and gone almost as quickly as I have, now all that’s left of me are bad memories and daydreams.

Reviews

[Brent]

And the next day, there are more words to fill up the sink once more! Words that we allow to escape the confines of our mind are free to roam about. Your poem emphasizes how closely we are tied to our thoughts. When we lose them, we do lose a little piece of ourselves.

Great piece on the power of writing!

[Adam Adams]

real. crisp. authentic... & with quite genuine feelings of love have you come up with. smoothly inked.

[UN]

The metaphor of words already spoken, the pain they've caused with the running water is a strong one.

[Relic]

To lose control in such a way is sad. The bleakness in this to me is shown through the water overflowing. Just like the darkness and depression that never stops.