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Water Grave
My death's door knocking.
Water streams came flowing.
I was locked inside, never knowing,
Unexpecting the gentle nature's sweet calling.

I heard the calming rush,
Flowing through the cold floors.
It caressed through the door's thin space,
And will soon caress my pale skin face.

Lungs used to breathe air.
It will learn to welcome and douse.
My...