Bully

I am not water.
I do not flow
Or seep through
The cracks of your
Brickwall.
I don't trickle
Or drip.
I am stiff
And callous
And abrasive.
I don't cajole
Or massage
Or persuade.
I barrel through walls,
Attacking them
Head on.
Rebuffed, I hurl myself
Against your door–
Repeatedly
Until I bruise
Until I bleed.
But I turn putty,
A watery pudding
When your eyes
Look at me;
Anguished,
Reproachful–
As if I failed you.