Water cascading down from the showerhead. The pitter patter
of the droplets. Droplets making way past your drenched head down to your toes
and into the drain.
It’s not enough..
You grasp the nozzle and the outpour increases, and the thuds
sear onto the peeling wall and tiled floor.
It’s not enough..cause –
You turn a knob, and you can feel the change. Close your
eyes, as you feel the staccato rhythm on your skull, and stand. Stand as the
streams of water surrounds you, as it rakes down your body, as it slowly
slithers away hiding the marks.
words hold power.
The thought echoes in your head, barraging through barriers,
racketeering a race through your brain.
And you clench your fists, and the fingernail bites into
your skin, and you feel the blood rushing in your head. The mirrors are fogged
and you can see your skin turn red.
Words hold power,
and you are powerless.
