Try and sort through the rubble

Try and sort through the rubble

Try and sort through the rubble

There's a faucet here in this room that drips in the still of the day 

I pace my thoughts to the sound

A monotonous repetition of hum drum drip drops my thoughts find solace here.

A steady pace amid the bustle of my mind

Aged remains of hurts gone by 

Mushrooming incidents, irresolute, open…

A reference point of the past…

Thus depicts the senescence of my mind….

I find no rest in the recesses that I call my own

Only a temporary solace brought about in the undertone

Clocks ticking

Drips dripping 

A sigh from deep within

Thus plays the symphony of my mind