The Sound the Sink Makes When the Water Slips Away

In this drain I sit alone
winding down these thoughts of mine
so simple on their own
strung into their brisk design

And I hate to watch you swallow
each thought as it begins
each hole to you seems hollow
so you cower and fear wins

You are not suffocating
but rather simply breathing
and the rhythm's rather grating
and the pattern simply seething

You think you're smart by proving
a point without a reason
yet your still life still is moving
and your winter's out of season