The life of fishes

I bought a cod fish
The fish-monger wrapped it in
A newspaper
I put in in the kitchen sink
Looked it in the eyes
Any recognition
Between two being
Nothing
I cut its head off and gutted it
Its eyes looked like
Black diamonds in the shade
Of the stolen
I fried the fish, ate it
Not long ago it had been swimming
In the cold sea
Avoiding nets and hooks
Did it have friends?
Who would lament its demise?
I wouldn't like to be a fish
Ending up in a frying pan, but
We are fishes too, always get caught
In someone’s war.