Drip, drip, drip,
Slowly, slowly, something's filling.
Drip, drip, drip,
When will this torture stop?
Drip, drip, drip.
Almost full now.
Drip, drip...
Splash.
It's overfilled,
It won't stop gushing,
Just constantly flowing out,
Until there's nothing left.
Then it starts again,
Drip, drip, drip.
YOU ARE READING
My Lonely Pathos
PoetryA series of poems, songs and whatever else is screaming in my mind. Pathos isn't something that comes to me, but when it does, it's written down and shared for those to see.
