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There’s a toxic force in the house, Worn water Leaking from a weary pipe, Dripping rusty tears into Broken bowls below. The faucet seemed to work fine When you first moved in, And then, Little by little The handles were hard to turn, Their drops pacing Like the heartbeat of A clock, Ticking, ticking… You can’t turn it off, No matter how hard you try, It continues to taint The sink below, Spreading An unwanted blush You can’t control Because you won’t leave This creaky house, With its weary windows, And half-hanging hinges, Open to the wind Which hisses through the leaves, Entering through the eaves, Laughing as it breathes Along with those old pipes That you didn’t know were broken, So you sit, Counting the endless minutes, Hoping somehow it will stop, But it won’t, Unless you go.
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