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Flapping Fish
I like it, when they are on my fishing rod,
flapping and gasping for breath.
I like to draw them with my eyes,
and make them dream of a nice future.
But there can never be a 'we'.
And only seconds after they leave the safe water,
I kill them with a stick.
Because it´s not nice to let a dying fish suffer.
poem
by
Nadine Hock
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