The bathtub is empty. (waste of face)

It is roughly carved and peeling-

No hopes of healing, now only kneeling.

It intends to stall, this desperate call.

But it echoes flat;

Hammered hollow, a modern collapse.

No more perhaps.

It is abandoned, it won’t be filled;

It is abandoned, it will be killed.

It has been taken from the pipes,

An organ inhumanly torn and worn;

Fashion’s latest thorn.

You hover in there;

You cover, won’t leave.

you will break; you will make.

Breathing its mutilated bait;
One last stabbing hate.

Denying the undeniable,
Irresistible, consuming; fate.

But soon it’ll be too late.