Fishing Rod

A young girl goes fishing to catch bass.

I was once the small.

As I casted out my line.

Situated on the log I looked up.

The clouds flew so high.

Reflections of light blinded me and I wiped my tears.

The fish bites but it stole my line. 

Losing the point of what I was doing.

So I watched the day turn into night.

In my frozen sunken skin, I wept.

And my eyes turned blood red.

I skipped stones and I screamed.

And then I woke up to daylight again.

Determined this time to apply myself.

I grew large.

I tossed my line out and dipped a toe in.

A large sleek fish got hooked. 

In my happiness I grabbed him.

As I prepared him for my hungry heart,

He contained no heart.

He had no love for what I wanted.

With poison barbs he stuck me.

And in the depths he drove me.

The blood red moon howled with me.

I turned away from the sunshine.

In the dark depths I sank. My feet touched the bottom.

Coldness and a choking darkness stole my lungs.

The fish with his barbs struck me over and over. 

He aimed at my heart often.

Then sunshine broke through the muddy water.

I felt a hand reach out and bring me out.

Breathing deeply I let my line fly away from me.

But my rod remained on the shore and I looked up.

In my despair I sat on the log again looking up.

Another fisher joined me and we grew acquainted.

He showed me that fish sometimes needed coaxing.

Never noticing his gills I stayed beside him for a long time.

Then he betrayed me with his charming smiles.

On the eve of the night life I got off the log. 

And in the background I heard rustling. 

A smiling man. No fishing rods.

I dropped my fishing rod. I looked up again.

And I took his hand. Together we left the river.

Author's Note

Metaphorical.