This is my attempt at sci-fi poetry. Don't hate.
I hate life.
I hate it here.
My friends -
Of whom only few remain -
Are going stir crazy.
Acting... Different.
It’s strange here.
At first, I thought,
“Hmm. I could enjoy this.”
But no.
Look at me.
I’m experimented on.
They say that I’m
Unique.
My tormentors are weird.
Their eyes
are squished together on their faces,
Mouths higher up than anything I’ve seen.
They are intrigued.
My memory is what confounds them.
It’s so short.
The things they do to me,
Make me do tricks,
Remembering hurts.
Even the dogs here are fed better than I.
I am alone.
The others have died.
Emptiness.
My cage is empty.
The pain in my head is excruciating.
They poke and prod me,
But no results please them...
What was I saying?
It doesn’t matter.
I hate life.
I was born the wrong species it seems.
Why am I a goldfish?
YOU ARE READING
Collecting Stories
أدب الهواةThis is what happens when I have original ideas; they go here. Most of them are really weird (the goldfish poem), and so far, I haven't thought of any that aren't weird so........ But, I also put things here that are fanfic related, but otherwise do...
