Another Failed Poet

 It's tragic to finally find yourself.

Only to find out that you are a fish.

Wading, waiting in a line of fish just like you.

Some better,

Some surprisingly worse. 

So many fish in the sea.

Are they sentient,

aware of who they are? 

Though there is comfort in being insignificant.

Maybe I should have been a bird.

Success is for the birds.