Thursday, March 29, 2007
This is for you, you bastard. I hate you so much that this poem is dedicated to your sick and sodding life, your words, your gestures, your smiles, all fake, all tricks. Have a happy life, because you don't know what you did to me.
I Am Not Like the FishermanThe weary fish,
hungry
The shiny hook,
disguised
by a tasty worm
(fat and juicy)
smelling and swimming
the fish likes worms
for food
because it lives by eating
so opening its mouth
it swallows the worm
(fat and juicy)
but quickly
a sharp pain at its mouth
pulls and pulls.
the shiny hook no longer hides
and pulls and pulls
soon
the fish is in the hands of a fisherman
handsome
but pulling the hook out
he tosses the fish back
and puts another worm
(fat and juicy)
on the bloodied hook
the pain is still there
pulling and pulling
but the fish
weary
still swims
with a hole, in its mouth,
beside two others.
?dael had a question at 11:37 AM