The Fishbowl

“I” am metal

A metal body

Nothing different about

It doesn’t change

It just



Where “my” head

Should be

Is a fishbowl

It is clear inside

Misted outside

With five fish

Each a different color


The fish take turns

Looking through

And sitting in the control room

Of the fish tank

While the other fish

Shout advice

On where (s)he should go


Sometimes the fish each

Take a side

Or fight over the controls


The “head” tips back

And forth

With disagreements

Some fish

Close their doors

And hold them shut

Others shed scales

And watch them grow

Into more fish


The fish tank is crowded

Each fish

Wants a turn

Each fish

Wants out

Each fish

Wants a life

But is locked in


One thought on “The Fishbowl

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