Inkspill

It is Time to Sleep by Daniel K

The bloody, raw flesh,

Commences to change its phase

turning into

White, juicy, and scrumptious meat.

The animal wiggles for dear life.

The desperation to save itself

and future generations,

Forms into spastic strength.

A One Last Almighty Buck

But fails to escape.

 

On the sizzling gridiron,

it senses the white-hot tongues of flame,

licking its body

slowing down, dripping down.

As the sauce splashes on top,

It senses the burning from the heat, spice, and desire to live.

 

The step towards death comes closer.

Every time it inhales and exhales,

It feels its gills filling with less life.

Thinking

“It is time to sleep…”

 

The mother fish cries

A solemn tune

too exhausted from her struggle to save

her eggs.

Eyes close for an eternal sleep.

 

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