Have you ever left a kettle on the stove?
Eventually the water inside will boil.
The steam rises
Triggering a whistle
Subtle at first,
Just to signal your attention.
But sometimes we don’t listen.
The whistle is an alert from the kettle.
It’s only way to communicate.
To say “I’m ready."
“I’ve finished what you started.”
“I’ve made exactly what you wanted.”
Now where are you?
You left me here,
On a black top stove,
Unattended with hot blue flames,
And the heat rising to place I can't take for much longer.
The longer you keep me here
The more I become solidified in my fears.
I will be abandoned.
I am unworthy of your attention.
The message is internalized
Until it becomes the only tape
I hear and play.
I search for the button,
but can't find ERASE.
Some days I feel like a kettle
Left on the stove.
At first I whisper a whistle,
Then wait a little.
When no one comes around,
I whistle just a little louder.
The volume continues to increase,
Until I’m taken off the heat.
All this time I was ready,
The way I was suppose to be
The first time you insisted I make tea.
Or coffee..
Or whatever you need…
I suddenly become handy,
In times you need me.
I am gentle until I reach
A point where I scream.
Then you call me crazy,
Say i’m making a scene.
Overreacting.
Turning a spill into a sea.
What kills me the most is your inconsistency.
The lack of predictably for your return.
Disregarding my time and my feelings.
How much water can a kettle hold, you think?
Your distorted idea
To the amount much patience I carry.
Measure it please:
A bounty?
A hole miles deep??
An infinite washing machine???
Capable of endless cycling????
You only run my energy.
If you didn’t know this already,
The water inside the kettle evaporates eventually.
Steams itself dry
Until nothing is remains
But an empty kettle,
A bottom burned ***
And a stove left on.
I only have a few ounces left.
I am about to drain out,
I have nothing left to replace myself.
After this happens,
There are no second chances.
You've had all you're tries,
and you've taken you're time.
It will only be a matter of time
Until the last thing you hear, is a faint cry.
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 7:50 PM UTC
Have you ever left a kettle on the stove?
Eventually the water inside will boil.
The steam rises
Triggering a whistle
Subtle at first,
Just to signal your attention.
But sometimes we don’t listen.
The whistle is an alert from the kettle.
It’s only way to communicate.
To say “I’m ready."
“I’ve finished what you started.”
“I’ve made exactly what you wanted.”
Now where are you?
You left me here,
On a black top stove,
Unattended with hot blue flames,
And the heat rising to place I can't take for much longer.
The longer you keep me here
The more I become solidified in my fears.
I will be abandoned.
I am unworthy of your attention.
The message is internalized
Until it becomes the only tape
I hear and play.
I search for the button,
but can't find ERASE.
Some days I feel like a kettle
Left on the stove.
At first I whisper a whistle,
Then wait a little.
When no one comes around,
I whistle just a little louder.
The volume continues to increase,
Until I’m taken off the heat.
All this time I was ready,
The way I was suppose to be
The first time you insisted I make tea.
Or coffee..
Or whatever you need…
I suddenly become handy,
In times you need me.
I am gentle until I reach
A point where I scream.
Then you call me crazy,
Say i’m making a scene.
Overreacting.
Turning a spill into a sea.
What kills me the most is your inconsistency.
The lack of predictably for your return.
Disregarding my time and my feelings.
How much water can a kettle hold, you think?
Your distorted idea
To the amount much patience I carry.
Measure it please:
A bounty?
A hole miles deep??
An infinite washing machine???
Capable of endless cycling????
You only run my energy.
If you didn’t know this already,
The water inside the kettle evaporates eventually.
Steams itself dry
Until nothing is remains
But an empty kettle,
A bottom burned ***
And a stove left on.
I only have a few ounces left.
I am about to drain out,
I have nothing left to replace myself.
After this happens,
There are no second chances.
You've had all you're tries,
and you've taken you're time.
It will only be a matter of time
Until the last thing you hear, is a faint cry.
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