If life was a mountain, I’m losing my footing.
If life was the sun, it’s becoming night.
If life was the wind, the leaves aren’t stirring.
If life was the earth, I’m sinking in quicksand.
If life was air, I’m short of breath.

I entered a room: a chamber so dark,
And chanced upon a golden ark.
I saw, but naught was there to be seen,
For the lone candle, with its lone beam.
I walked and sauntered and toddled and paced,
Toward that lone candle, but not, in haste.
I drew near and witnessed a sight, miraculous,
Behold a thousand others in my plight.

That I chanced upon this candle,
In this place of complete scandal.
I thank this beacon, this light that saved,
For a soul, a path it paved.

She ran,
Ran as far as she could,  
As fast as she could,
from reality.
Her breath came in short quick gasps.
She couldn’t stop though.
She had to disappear to another land.
Because the souls of this one, could not understand.
As she sat on a stump with autumn leaves falling,
She thought she heard them calling and calling.
Every moment replayed itself, like it did everyday.
She thought back to sweet May.
It drained her of the energy she had left,
Stole her life, a terrible theft.
Her eyes shut for the night,
And she hoped, with great might,
That the world may end, come the light.

The never-ending blue ceiling seemed
Calm, blowing a cold wind
Over my bare feet as I sat on the bench, wasting
Time on idle talk. A soft sound
Made itself heard to me. I knew
The source of this melody.
I picked up the gentle, furry creature. So small
So innocent. I held her, gazed
Into the brilliant blue orbs in her large head.
So disproportionate – yet – so breath-taking.
She flopped off my hand and stumbled
Towards the tattered basket. I followed.
In that tattered basket lay
5 more strays. A chorus of purrs radiating
From the small things.
One by one they approached
Me: a new object in their life.
Their squeals ceased, their heads buried
In my knitted sweater: my lap a new basket.
Mews melted into purrs.
They would grow into strong cats, but for now
A cuddle and a nap. Already
thinking about tomorrow.

I wish tomorrow had never come,
I let the sight sink
In. Eyes gripped by her mangled ****** corpse.
My vision blurred, hot salty tears trickled
Onto my lips. Guts
Spilled over the coarse concrete. Matted, sticky
Crimson fur clung to her fragile, dead body.
Black tire tracks trailing away into the dark.
Crimson to black. The end of a melody, a song
Not sung for long.