I sit and wait for the call to begin
I ponder what I'll say
or if I'll learn anything
While the dread settles in

I don't like myself right now.
I see patterns and look for answers
I'll think I might be getting closer to closure,
but in the end, only  assumptions are found.

"Why do you need to know?" She asks me.
Because I feel like a well.
The Sun appears and I become dried out,
a storm rumbles in and I'm overflowing.

People visit me rarely
each time they do, I become more empty.
They come to me because they get something
They don't stop and sit with me, they want what I function.

Sometimes they paint me,
or add a layer to my shell
They might gift me an accessory
because for them, it will help.

It makes them feel better,
when how I look brings them comfort,
They think everything changed
But I'm still a well they never visit to connect.

I'm a well that sits on a hill,
They think I'm out of reach
but I'm here, left out
Someday I'll be the well that fell.