It Flows Poem by Jeryn Bean

A quick flick of the wrist is all it takes,
then you sit there, watching it flow,
just like a river in spring,
it flows.

you stare at it, picturing its your worrys,
picturing its your pain and sorrow,
but as your mind begins to fade,
you know it is, and it isnt.

you start to feel nothing as the pain slips from your limbs,
and you smile thinking its at an end.
only to wake in absolute darkness,

even more alone than before.