One covered in dirt,
remembering the dusty trail it ran along,
the poacher with the switchblade machete,
the fingerprints still left from getting yanked
no longer pursued after evasion.

One covered in blush,
the stylist that had wanted to cut,
the look she didn't truly want,
yet now was permanent dye onto
the white that is now pink.

One covered in black ink,
the artist that showed the beauty how to paint.
Such beautiful and stylized portraits
were often created by force and greed,
when the feline decided to go by her own creed.

One covered by ribbons of all sorts,
the types the kittycat wanted,
pretty loops twirling into the air,
when the nightly run would draw
a silhouette of fleeing beauty.

One covered by braided hearts
done by a former mate,
but left in the pattern
to remember the love assumed,
the nights spent gazing into the moon.

One covered by scars that had no fur
from the attempts of self mutilation tried when life seemed gone.
Alone and craving for the jolt.
Resistance was forced by a nurse on patrol.
Death would not be an option anymore.

One covered by text reading "Hope",
For at least the one right being who
would care and love, not constantly *****
the sensitive tails that would
lead deep into her soul.

One covered by a face that smiled and frowned,
reflecting the emotional surges that happen.
Both occur rapidly and were usually
the greatest things for her, unbeknown in her mind.
As depressed as she could be, she could still be happy.

One covered by nothing,
still something more to do,
Life still young and ready.
A continued path she would lead
For the true one to be
That would mark the position of her final tale.

The ferocious fiery fowl stood
upon the tallest branch of the tallest tree
that grew in all of Viridian City.
The eyes that had stared down
towards all the offenders
silently closed with a deep reckoning inside.
The flaming feathers fluttered in the air
until one feather lightly touched the
tree with a vulnerable wooden weakness.
The trail was all ready for the
traveling embers that were sending
a pain throughout nature's first creation.
Light shone through the leaves
that were burnt a split-second after.
Moltres stood still
on the tree it would soon ****,
but the further future, Moltres had yet predicted.
All the branches were barren and clean,
except for the burning positions
from the flames for Moltres.
Fire was now spreading out,
onto the grass, onto the ground.
Further death upon the still-ever-growing earth.
All trees began to look the same:
Crisp, wilting, blackened, and dead.
Collapse occurs to all but one of the wooden people,
From the cremation, turned into a desert.
All remnants but one are now tiny specks of dust.
Moltres opened its still-glaring orbs,
released its tense wings and flew off.
The last tree disintegrates,
Finally a forest of ashes,
and more to come from
the infernal destruction of the flames of Moltres.

Shoot the sky and release the diamonds from the rain.
Stardust sprinkled onto the cement.

No more thoughts than that.
I see things, though.

Wet snowcap, yet not by snow.
Orange ginger mint tea,
Slightly warm, slightly filled.
A Bible laid on top of a notebook,
Noticeably used Japanese-style.
The tapping from a Sony PSP,
Almost as if a cool rage is
emanating from the fingertips.
Apartment requests listed,
Most are scratched out, a few are true options.

The tea is full again.
It's still so quiet.
Oh, but a revelation is made.
No game was being played.
A message to send to another
More than likely.

One gulp and one sip.
Fatigue is still hitting me
like a person who didn't stop walking,
even when he dreamed when he could.
Hope I did the right thing to write.

The unstoppable war
The cause of suicidal rage
Twirled batons connected to saw blades
Carriages for the dead
well-prepared
Shields are nowhere
Only offense
Everything to the center
All come in
None go out
Sounds of organic materials being cut
Precious ****** fluids spilt
Fire surrounds all
Charmander stands near his throne
"Charmander-Char" in a high squeaky voice
The dictatorship ruled by a monster
who could have fit into his slaves' jeans
He was now the master
and these humans were his to command to fight.

"Ember Amber, I choose you!"

Trainer **** it...

Flowers singing beauty songs,
A group of wandering people,
speaking in an ancient language,
In tune to a trance.
A chanting towards the waters,
Harmonious to the end,
As all the clouded minds
of the twisted wretched cult
began their deep descent,
Into the sorrowful sea of suffering,
To forever change the sky waters
to a chilling blood-ruby red.
Their souls all sent to
the area where wrong is right,
Into the chambers of purgatory.

Hi to the world
and let the morning flourish
through the raggedy form you hold.
The pajamas you wear, though awesome,
are changed a chilling pink-purple
skirt.

Hi to the world
and widen your eyes to see the glorious
light that shines into the brightness of your mind.
The eyes of which were covered by their lids
are now covered by the shady
sunglasses.

Hi to the world
and let the sun's shine glare upon the
grimace that you have from it being very early.
The angered grit of your teeth shall cease
as the yellow shall turn to white, reflecting the happy light off your
smile.

Hi to the world
and let the towns, cities, all the people within,
let them turn their own
frustrated selves into the most enlightened.
Peace is now out through the area, thanks to
The one who started it all.
YOU.

Walls are closing me in every day, I say.
My sentence is for infinite,
Not even an Indian king could give me
the air that I so desperately crave.
By that time, I'd be long into the center of Earth at my grave.
I want the touch of your skin,
To just let you right in to my cell.
Restrictions break our connections,
wrap chains around my waist,
pulling and tossing me into those
subzero rocks near the sea.
How glorious, yet impossible, that it would be.
Oh, how I've longed to touch the ocean,
yet they pull me back once more for the
half-hour free-for-all cannibal buffet.
Not a bite for me to scavenge on,
just a bone or two to scrounge out,
just the bare minimum to survive upon,
and, once again, my stomach never becomes full,
because I release it all during the throat-slitters' hour.
The loss of souls and minds
are made from the aggressiveness of brawn,
leaving bloodtrails down each and every corridor.
Not one limb has fallen from me,
though I'm aware of eunuchs to be,
who survived the previous slaughterfest hour.
I pray for you to never lose
the wonderful mind you learn with,
or find a guy with a girl you want to ***** with,
because you will lose more than your mind.
You will lose your head,
left to drip your precious drops of life.