The water level rises till its on par with your lower eyelids
Droplets of warm water sit on the eyelids' ledge swinging their fluid legs carefreely
With every move, the burning substance threatens to fall of the edge
The mouth moves rapidly in an attempt to contain the liquid
A soundless scream ensues, and the tears rolled back to the back of the eyes
For I am a woman made of water
And none of it shall be spilt
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