You see, I’m a dead fish. My name is Robert III. You may be wondering, Who would name a fish? Well, all fish have names, thank you very much. Your next question might be, Wait, if you’re dead, how are you telling this story? Well, I’m writing this from the fishy afterlife.
See, I watched…as horrible human beings, took my dead body, and instead of giving me a burial of respect, they took my dead body, and they put in a pan. I watched as that pan burned my skin. I watched as it cooked my insides. And I watched as those human—those horrible humans—put me on a plate that was delivered to another. I watched as that other human put me in their mouth. And I watched as my little fishy body was cut up and masticated.
The Fishy Afterlife
More by Fainting Goat
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The Birds Dressed In Lies
First I see a raven,
Strong and dark.
Now I see an eagle,
Majestic and mighty.
Now I see a crow,
So similar to the raven.
Now I see a feather,
Alone and indistinct.
Finally I see the birds.
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His Beauty
His hair, his eyes.
How I love his smile, his laugh.
So funny, so sweet.
Always making me smile, and giggle.
But I’m trapped in the friend zone.
He’s so much more to me, but I’m just a friend.
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My (Other) Name In A Nutshell
Bubbly and bright, yet always faking it.
Ridiculous and strange, always an outcast.
Insidious and dark, with too much to hide.
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