Sardines

We are nothing but sardines in a can. Really.

We are nothing but

sardines in a can

Shipped through a city.

Cramped into

an assembly line full of other cans of sardines

buzzing about, honking about.

We are nothing but

sardines in a can

Shipped through a city.

Swimming in the sauce of

our own thoughts

dreams, aspirations, heartbreaks.

We are nothing but

sardines in a can

Shipped through a city.

Headless, tailless,

trying to make sense

of the chaos that is reality.

We are nothing but

sardines in a can

Shipped to God.

Where He will

pluck us out

one by one.

Author's Note

Like Dirt, this poem was inspired by public transportation. That bus ride was one of the shittiest rides I've had so far. Haha. And yeah, first poem in a while. :P