Darkness pulls me under, my eyes close
I wish I wasn't here, I wish death wasn't holding my hand
My eyes open, grow frantic
All around me is muck, this water is not fit for death.
My breath is escaping fast, try to scream
And he will rush within you.
I'm trying to reach the surface, try to let someone know.
I am here.
Flailing are my limbs, he never loosens his grip.
Growing tired from this useless effort
But the warm air is right above me
And I reach for it and miss.
It's too late.
I'm drowning, falling to my death and disappearing into an abyss.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem