Poetry...

The Tap

The tap is dripping steadily,
crying for us all.
dreaming of past suffering,
its tears begin to fall.

No escape from the gaping hole below,
the tears begin to roll.
They follow a long and dreary path,
to find banks of filth block their destined goal.

The tap weeps on,
saddened at the state of its tears.
It cries on for us and the tears alike,
and our passage through the years.

[Written in a state of depression. The image of the dripping tap was discovered while lying on the floor of my friend's bathroom contemplating the seemingly inevitable misery and failure our fates hold in store for us. See 'A familiar tale' .]