Sprial

It is the way you hold water in your hands,
molding the fingers like a cup, 
tightly and carefully, 
but imperfectly, 
always working at a loss. 
It is like running over rocks, 
the faster you want to go,
and the harder you try, 
the more likely it will end
in blood and scraped skin.
It is like holding a gun,
at a man who is holding a gun.
Sooner or later, the trigger 
will be pulled. 
It is like reasoning with a fool,
when all reason becomes foolish. 
It is inevitable, this spiral.