Reptilian claws are weak, not strong
can't grip the blue plastic walls
can't climb out, transcend the processed prison.
Intently refusing to help
snickering at the way it tries.
It works and slaves and labors so pathetically
attempting to latch its nails onto the single
I'm watching and laughing and
silently slicing open my skull.
I am the vile thing
A high maintenance reptile
drowning in an inch of water.
I'm the soft skinned scaly creature
bashing it's head
time time time again.
We don't learn when we fall,
don't refrain from cracking our useless skulls
although we still feel the sting of the first crack
and reach up once more to make ourselves into another failure.
Claws won't catch.
Plastic remains invincible.
And always a man stands cackling at our efforts
shadowing our buckets of freshwater
and murdering himself for seeing so much in a helpless turtle.