It clenches one,
Like a prisoner trying to break free of tight bindings.
But not in an evil or malicious way.
More like a mother holding a child,
Gently, yet tightly, with warmth,
And the water seems to hold one captive,
Not wavering until one requires air,
And they see the liquid,
It’s great drowning force parting to thin skin.
And as one draws breath, the water becomes cold on soft flesh,
As if to spite one for abandonment.