Droplet

There has always been the steady drip drip dripping echoing through these dark dank tunnels.
Quiet and distant but incessantly consistent enough to bring on the ring ring ringing in my ears.
I sense the dread of some lost soul tortured under its fusilade, maddeningly slow, wearing to the bone.
The screams I already hear are mine, not wanting to wait to know who or why, but which way out.
I run, panting for parched and barren lands.