Cry Me a River

It seems to always start the same way, just like a cycle I might say. The way a bottle slowly fills up, drop by drop reaching the top until it can't take it no longer, it starts to suffocate in its own water, no air, and it starts to shatter. Just like it began to slowly fill up; it slowly drips out, drop by drop reaching rock bottom. Once it starts to drip there's no way to get a grip. Now it starts to poor, a volcano erupting with anger, an overbearing power, out of control, wanting to breathe, gasping for air but the water is never ending. It slowly starts to subside, for a moment everything seems alright, almost soothing. The water isn't gone, but it's not overflowing it's the way you'd want it forever, not full but not empty. It's precise, it's perfect; but it's not everlasting. Slowly, drop by drop, until it reaches the top.