The faucet started dripping again,
And now it’s something else to keep me awake
Right behind the tick-tick-ticking of the wall clock,
(That’s slowly sliding off its bent nail)
The constant whirring of the old ceiling fan,
(That seems like it will fall any second because its screws aren’t in just right)
The flickering of the streetlight through the blinds,
(That sometimes goes out because the city doesn’t care enough to fix it)
And the words that run through a poet’s mind at night
(That try to piece themselves into coherent lines, but can never seem to find a way).