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A glass penguin sits in my bathroom, quotidian, though,
His spirit dives with his kind through the currents of the ocean
A fragile friend sits next to him, his only company
Unlike his colonies that marched to battle against the storms
This friend’s flipper was shattered from a fall it endured
Similar to the falls of the glaciers that continue to shatter the species
His attire, striking hues and pellucid curves
Differing to his uncoloured, stark fellows
Just as the purity of the tones those fellows clothe in
Differs to the tainted marine blue that their hearts surround
Within my little penguin, holds what keeps him tethered to his sort;
In the depths of the blues, framing his globose belly; 
There are but so very few fish