A Death

The water swirls
It makes me choke.
It fills my lungs
Like black hot smoke.

The porcelain white
Is all I see.
Why am I so hated?
Why don't they let me be?

I do no harm,
No intentional pain.
I build my webs,
I flee from rain.

But the last water
That I shall taste,
Is murky and tinted,
Once filled with waste.

As my last breaths are breathed,
My last thoughts thought,
I am scared and quite cold,
Much like the flies I once caught.

But perhaps in my next life
A spider I won't be.
Perhaps I'll be the human,
Flushing another version of me.