Swim

Swim
When fish die in large numbers
There is none fish in the sea
On a Thursday,
when everyone will be thirsty,
we will all lie down like fish dropped on the sand of the shore,
looking at the sky and breathing the last particles of air left.
We will lie with our tongues hanging in hope for a drop of rain
and the pain in our chest will be unbearable.
And the squeezing stomachs will be torture.
And there will be none to blame but ourselves,
for an outcome of our own misery and ignorance.
Take a look at the fish on the shores
and imagine your body there,
your body between other thousands of faceless bodies, leftovers of your mother, father,
and the body of your child.