A Malady
I dive,
I tread,
There's food to be found,
So that I may be fed.
I search through the waters yet again,
Knowing that if I go to the surface,
My life would end.
Those winged creatures fly above,
As night creeps out to take its place.
They soar,
They hunt,
For one thing;
Me.
Chrystal Vitale
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