Dust is what I think of when we pass away
Parts of us before our time, and then all at once
I love overthinking, seeing parts of me gone

And why are belts tightened and hearts working?
We work very gladly to send another layer away

The simple analogy is meant to do whatever
Whichever the reaction, there’s the meaning
I’m. A. Goldfish. ******.
See what I did there? If you didn’t, that was supposed to happen.

I’m as much here for myself as I am the world;
A dichotomy for and against.
And every layer gone isn’t proof of the former and the latter

If others’ love and hate were more often their gift to my ethos
It would be no matter, once I am like the cells gone before my neurons

I wonder if goldfish feel the same.
I don’t give a **** if they do