Fish don't have libraries and why death isn't final.

The lights were bright
The conversation lively
Strangers falling into friendly eyes

In the dark, strange voices speak a language I cannot understand.

Is the party over?
Is it time to leave?

[The end]
-BK

An old man's face appears in the mirror.

Pain, concern and expired joy etch every line.

Each limb, once an extension of infinite possibility.
Now a carapace, a prison.
A senseless and diminished prisoner.

[Mirror in the cell]
-BK