Water Tomb

Though water be all around me
And Plentiful beneath my feet,
None can quench my cursed thirst
And soon my heart will cease to beat.

It pours from the very sky above me-
Taunting, so sweet-
And in Anguished cries I call out
But the wind blows away my pleas.

My hands grow cold,
My eyes go black,
And I know the end is at hand...
But if only the water would poor no more
And I found shelter from my thirst,
Then, maybe, this death wouldn't be so horrible after all;
rescue from this land of impending doom.