A Dead Beauty

by Silvy Rianingrum

Life is the Mekong river, but you are a Betta

fish jar-trapped or stored alive: a dead beauty,

insisting on swimming free against the walls

that're hastily caving in on your purpling

wounds others call pretty.Oh, they won't save you—

not even a fleeting thought crosses their minds.

Only as entertainment they keep you,

Only to watch you suffer and

struggle—And you, there, can

neither swim across nor follow the flow.

What are you doing?