That darn old well

It starts with a fall.

With one tiny drop, it starts it all.
You drink, as you ignore His call.
Not knowing u’re about to hit a wall.
The well is empty and dry.
There you are, not ready for a goodbye.
You stay, and to yourself, you lie.
Pretending that new water will come by.
Your thirst is dire.
You burn in the fire.
The stress, the loss, you grow tire.
And you can’t let the flames go higher.
The river, the sea, the swamps, the rain.
They’re all there to soothe your pain.
But you still wish for that well again.
I cannot go back, I must refrain.
Puteri Eleni, KL.
 white roses
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