Angry faces
with speaking facial lines.
Casting reddish eyes
discontentedly at the well.
Saying: We deserve a tap
not this thing on the ground.
Choking necks
with thorny hands.
Wrists cuffed in chains
with keyless locks.
Hands that should be lifted high
with victory cups,
glowing with wines for kings.
You draw from the well.
You fetch from the tap.
Same water
Same relevance
Same visuals
But eyelashes
covering hidden words
with balls of untrained emotions,
tampered hopeful thanks
for what was given in true love.
Payment was made
from a cloned wallet.
A reciprocated love
with coins of equal sides
in disguise as they are
A pump,
at the back of a well,
with pipes,
linked to a tap.