Caved in a world, water in a bottle

Laying steady, only vibrating

With that of, movement and noise

Poise, accuracy, precision

The only freedom is at the top, an incision

At times rising up and down

Squeezed and quenching

Never pleased, easy to see through

So difficult to understand

Abundant yet scarce

For this world anything in quantity is abused

Our only hydration, our fuel that helps us find elation

For we are bottles in a carton, some more some less

The carriers and the carried

Thrown away, disposed

Decayed and buried