I never did trust this goldfish
while typing.
Its bulging eyes scream spy,
and I won't have it escape,
tell people from wrong crowds
about these secret writing projects.
Circling its crystal bowl,
this goldfish is mine.
A political prisoner
with no chance at pardon.
Call Amnesty International
or protest, I don't care.
It knows too much
to swim in freedom.
(Eventually)
Death will be its liberator:
Its body glistening in the sundown
during the proposed viking funeral;
secrets kept secret.
Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 11:58 PM UTC
I never did trust this goldfish
while typing.
Its bulging eyes scream spy,
and I won't have it escape,
tell people from wrong crowds
about these secret writing projects.
Circling its crystal bowl,
this goldfish is mine.
A political prisoner
with no chance at pardon.
Call Amnesty International
or protest, I don't care.
It knows too much
to swim in freedom.
(Eventually)
Death will be its liberator:
Its body glistening in the sundown
during the proposed viking funeral;
secrets kept secret.
The final cut to this legendary James Bond type goldfish ordeal.
Editors Note:
1. The author doesn't own a goldfish and is in fact voicing his own insecurities about the sea creature. He truly fears goldfish.
2. Any resemblance to real life goldfish is completely coincidental. The author has never encountered a real life secret service goldfish.
3. No animals were harmed in the editing of this poem. Please love all our animal friends whether it be mammal or fish (or anything).
