My life is short. It will not last. At least its short when dinner has passed. I've not been fed, i've not put back, for the last place i was is in a plastic bag. There is no fishbowl here, for they've cleaned me.
I cant find the fishbowl, what will it be for me?
If my fishbowl is near, maybe it will be so shiny clean. But where will i find a fishbowl like thee?
I near the corner, as i'm in a plastic bag, and around the wall is a place i've never been.
The kitchen sink is what i need. My fishbowl is there, on the water spout. How will i get there? will i have to shout? Im not flying monkey, but i can indeed. I flip, flop, and floup. I land on the table, where my fishbowl is about.
I wiggle my fat fins into the bowl's mouth, and realize this is the wrong bowl. I sizzle and suffer, but it all kind of stops, when i'm served on a plate to a unknown friend. Not a fish, but a man.
