I live in this world
like a fish in a tank
why must I see life through glass
see-through and breakable
why must I make my home
these walls
I'm drowning in the depths
trapped in my own mess
and gasping for bubbles of air that seem unreachable
the beauty is materialistic
plastic and old
the rocks lurk on the bottom
gathering algae
covering their surface
with thick, slimy nonsense
that's like my mind
beneath lies what I can't erase
there are no questions to ponder
like what happens now?
my owner will feed me
let the hope in this tank fill up
creating a tank of filth
that's what I wait for
I guess you could say
when the little fish rises
tears of tar fill the eyes
of my owner
and I become the fish
flowing down the toilet
with no care in the world
except, what finally happens next...