The tepid water was really getting to me,
sitting there on the end table,
lifeless,
sedentary,
like me and my corpse
within reach,
but then again, not
merely a reminder of things I could not yet do,
things I used to do for myself,
and when the night light in the corner burned out,
it was just another notion of the death of my childhood,
just like the water with diminishing returns,
slippery,
misleading,
illusory even,
it was the water,
and the fall,
and then the waterfall
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