Shark

The shark lives in a boorish place,
perfect for something so visceral.
Finning about its medium with tedious attention and wanton thoughts
It is ever fretful in the bloodied spume
Unsure if the cohort will take the wrong idea, or worse.
Yet it endures, a machine of dire and vagabond tendencies.
It is in the unfathomable wandering that it finds meaning,
hidden in vibrant colors of the coral,
Of which, the beast displays stunning ignorance.

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