Monday, September 27, 2021
An Ode to the Faucet
I hear little drips the leaky faucet makes
amid violent silence of the passing night,
It bothers me no end and could not sleep
With every drop drilling a hole in my brain
Those tiny drops seem to be amplified
a thousand fold, heard like screams
from another room. Steady rhythm
wild and isolated, cruel in every way.
I hear little drips the leaky faucet makes
In time with the IV drip
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