Water rushed down his throat almost as fast as the waves that hit them.
His vision blurred  but he could see her face clear as day, smiling.
It was then he noticed that her smile wasn't a happy one it was sorrowful.
It was asking, begging really for him to hold on.
But his fingers had other aims.
His salty tears became one with the ocean as his wrinkly numb fingers slip off his only chance of survival.
"Please, help" he cried but to no avail.
No avail as they claimed they couldn't hear him. They claimed they couldn't hear the thousands pleading.
They couldn't hear because they weren't listening.
They were too caught up in their own filthy agenda.
They were too caught up making their hands ***** to "build houses" in which these loud people would not get to live in.