Your endless pursuits
Confined to the glass walls
The water so cold
Your red colour called gold.
Your piscean gulps
Mistaken for sounds
While we taught you tricks
Your fins wave in protest.
Your feed so rationed
Your sleep monitored
Lights kept you awake
And fresh water drowned you. 
4 comments:
It is lethal to be 'called gold'.
good reading my friend
Good Read!The poet in you comes out strong...
Good Read!
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