every second counts

I am the bathroom tap that never stops dripping. I am my mother crying in the bathroom. I cross my legs and smile at my doctor. He doesn’t smile back. He asks why I took all those pills. I am the bathroom tap that never stops dripping. I am nothing but the sound of birds rustling in autumn leaves. I am not my father. Anything but my father. He is the crunch of autumn leaves. The garbage disposal. My mother is the woman drowning in the bathtub and I am the bathroom tap that never stops dripping. I am her shrieks. I wear pink blush and smile at my doctor. I took those pills because I am the bathroom tap that never stops dripping. My mother is drowning. My father is destructing and I can’t stop dripping. Can’t you see, my mothers shrieks is my grief. My mother stands outside the hospital room crying. I’m wearing a hospital gown and I watch my father scrunch up his fists. I am not my fathers anger. But I understand it. I am the bathroom tap that never stops dripping. In the same bathroom my mother cries in. In the same bathroom I tried to die in. I am the bathroom tap that never stops dripping.