Health, Love, or Money

There’s a hole in the wall of your world,
Well, one of your worlds, one of your walls.
You’re not bleeding, but you’re draining through.

Amount, amount. Life’s always counting
Amounts you have, amounts you have left,
Even of the existential things

That don’t come in countable amounts.
For now, you’ll let part of your world drain
Into another part of your world,

And hope that you can hold enough back
To start another little account
You can reserve for the next attack.