Scorched

The glass shall shattered
as you tightened your grip
The water you dissipate
doesn't even quench your thirst
count, still, count
for a moment
Is there anything you miss
seems like you did
What if it was poison
A diluted poison
Tormenting you from within
slowly, still
Derived from the core
spreading, counting, still
gripping your heart shall not help
Clutch on your head was futile
Scream instead... even your voice failed you
now you know how does it feel