Every moment I spend a slave.
Every dreary wallop,
I bob and shy away,
waiting to be taken like the others.
Every yearnful opportunity,
I blast towards the grit I'm thrown,
and beseech to my god that it lands in my jurisdiction before the others.
Every nostalgic night,
I howl at my artificial light,
craving to see the naked moon again based upon my own privilege.
Every medium moment,
I fluoresce in circles,
soliciting my mind and delicacy,
delaying the inevitable, trophying for even a single moment more of what I call life.
As owners buy, pass, and forget,
I wait meekly and gently,
being the only constant in my rightless aquarium,
every moment losing my authenticity and reality,
pondering when humans will justify the life of a fish.