Another chip, another blow.
Today my bucket found another hole.
A drip. A drop.
Takes everything I got.
To smile. And pretend.
That it's okay. It'll soon end.
Where's a patch? Where's a hose?
Who knows when the leaks will close.
So here I go, and toil away.
Hoping my bucket will be filled today.
Yet the sun has set. The bucket's dry.
I huddle in my room, and silently cry.
For where is the water I desperately need?
To nourish my own growing seed?
Gone to others. Gone away.
Nothing's left for me this day.
Until you next find these words; I'll be watching the leaves. Enjoy the day!
-Sarnic Dirchi
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