It's not yet night for her to sink
But she closed herself and sank
Like eyes that are too tired to blink
And gazing upon the muddy river bank,
Suddenly, there were ripples in the water
As she sinks down into the river bed
But there was not a single call from her
As if she let herself be led
By water currents she knew so well

Have you forgotten how to float?
Or are there no souls around to tell,
About silent screams with a sore throat?
Did your roots pull from the mud?
And the current strong enough to break it?
It's a tragedy of the tiny pink bud,
who once sat on the murky water of two feet,
Being swallowed whole into the water
and not once experiencing a genuine woo

Oh, lovely water flower,

....Did you regret it too?