Generic

Drip… drip… drip 
The water drops for ever 
to overspill the brimming bowl. 
He pays no heed, for he will 
never need to pay the bill. 
His isolation is complete. 
One final step to take, 
To admit defeat; 
and loose his soul. 
 
Drip… drip… drip… 
His life blood falls; 
a bitter jest - without a laugh 
 
for recompense - enthralls him. 
He offers as defense his, 
‘Right to quit the fight.' 
One swift rip. Not too deep. 
Drift,softly into final rest. 
He who’s sleep 
lasts long – laughs best.

Final Jest