Murky green water rising, inch by inch, hour by hour . . . 

The wait so tortuous as the water encompasses my bound head . . . 

I feel it gently caress my cheeks, like a mother would her child . . . 

Agonizingly I wait as I feel the water rise, towards the openings of my nose . . .

The burn as I choke and cry is like liquor poured down my raw throat . . . 

As I feel my last breath leave my body, only to be replaced by sour water, I stop my struggle . . .

I accept my inevitable end and passage into the life of the dead.