Black Kitten,
Ugly Kitten,
Unwanted, and unloved,

With matted fur,
Wide eyes of stone,
Once, you were beloved,

Black Kitten,
Ugly Kitten,
Your nose is runny and red,

Your paws are too small,
Your tail is patchy and wet,
You're too thin, but perhaps with a bit of bread..

Black Kitten,
Ugly Kitten,
You tried to follow me home,

My home is too small,
Money is tight and hard earned,
My heart is unwell, but I cannot simply let you roam..

Black Kitten,
Ugly Kitten,
You didn't care,

I was the curious thing,
The one to stop,
And scratch behind your ears, your life has never been fair..

Black Kitten,
Ugly Kitten,
Your walk is much too slow,

Fumbling one way or the other,
Tripping over your paws,
Getting distracted by the spiders, but soon, you'll grow..

Black Kitten,
Ugly Kitten,
I stopped,

And carried you home.

Stitch me up with words and ink,
Between the pages, let the black sink,
For I am a tale,
One to be told,

Lest I become human and *****.

I am fragile, hold me tight between your pages,
There, I can live for lifetimes, for the endless ages,
Cover to cover, I shall be bound,
Until the next reader comes around,

Never shall it occur to me the words are simple cages,
Lest I become human, and *****.

Push it down, deep down beneath,
Let it boil, let it roll, let it seethe,
The careless eye shall miss it all,
One word to them, amidst the deafening scrawl,
Take this moment in, simply breathe.

I don't need to deal, don't need to cope,
I live each day, with a dream and hope,
I'm not broken, you'll see,
I can laugh, and be wild, and act free,
Does it look as if misery holds me tight in rope?

Breath fills my lungs, I live another day,
This world is mine, moldable as clay,
Loss touches the hearts of all World Chasers,
The Go-Getters, the Fastest-Pacers,
We see the light, shining through the grey.

So long as we do not contemplate our loss,
Clinging to our hearts as thick as the aging moss.

Oh online little notebook,
For everyone to judge.

You click and clack, dutifully serving
Their owners unwilling to budge.

With flickering screens,
And dancing fonts,

The normal life, your presence haunts.

For your company, that you keep,
Are false, and shallow, and cheap.

Their lives continue, if yours does not.

All that entertains,

Eventually, will rot.

Silver light spills to the rocks below,
Gleaming, glittering, glistening,
Beneath the still pond water.

~

Glossed scales revel in the silver,
Rising from the water in a leaping dance,
Shimmering, sparkling, shining,
Beneath the celestial light.

~

Only to drop back,
Beneath the rippling pond water.

The woman of power, of the final hour,
Stood upon the gaping edge of death,
Savoring her final due breath,
Recollecting her spent time, as the demons beneath, did climb.

The woman, once unknown, many must atone,
With a simple display, she tore the lights that held the night at bay,
For nothing as powerful as she, should anyone but agree,
Resting upon her belt, the stars forever dwelt.

The woman, demur of the end, a challenge to death, she had penned,
A game, we shall partake, with eternal lives at stake,
For if I do not wish to die, your purpose, you must defy,
With a stolen piece, her years did increase.

The woman of blackened markings, her mind of ever-workings,
Stood tall upon her mare, chased with twisting white hair,
Upon her belt, rested pouched treasures, glittering fondly with pleasure,
For her company never to shake, as her pale eyes did forever take.

She was the woman of Cree, far beyond The Black Ink Sea,
The taker of stars, leaving naught but empty scars,
She was the winning player of Death's Game, her rewards, to gain,
With the twisting marks of power, deep to the pit, she did glower.

For nothing of its sort,
Shall ever hold her short,
From any a task within her aim,
A woman such as I, victory shall I claim.

And with that thought dancing across her mind,
She leapt, and left the mortal world behind.

This one here, why I got it from a Pirate,

He stood with a peg leg and a beard full of knots,
The deck beneath him was littered with hefty dots,
A rather peculiar sight, if I was to be asked,
Which I was, and with that, this eye became glassed!

The one over there, I suppose was from that Siren,

Her skin was blue, eyes a shimmering gold,
Her chest was bare, a sight that the sailors adored to behold,
Excuse me, miss, I inclined my head, "While this is all well and pleasing,"
She clocked my tooth out, when I continued, "In this air, you must be freezing!"

Why that one there, that's from a Queen,

She stood with regal grace and beauty,
Though in my opinion, her dress and manner was rather snooty,
When asked in regards to a task appointed to me,
I informed her that if it was so important, SHE could go water the overgrown tree!

That one there, why that's from a Fairy,

It resided within a nest of glittering gems and jewels,
Each of course, lifted from some wandering fools,
Eyes gleaming with desire and greed,
I soon found those little Fairies are capable of bites to make you bleed!

Over here, you'll see it plainly, is from a Dragon,

It was a plague on the town, its wake of destruction spreading wide,
With grasping claws and snapping teeth, it gobbled up my bride,
I hunted it where it slept, and moved to strike it dead,
And with that, I lost my head!

Piles of unfinished, unfilled, untold notebooks,
Stack high upon the stand,
Whispering their pleas deep into the night.


Write for me, if you will write at all, one begged,
For in I, you once wrote,
"I don't believe in good and evil,
It seems a heavy sort of burdance to put on four little letters."

My story is incomplete,
I am not done speaking,

Pick up your pen, and write again.


Nay, write for me, another argues,
For in I, you once wrote,
"Your worlds isn't in danger because I came, as you believe.
I came because your world is in danger."

My story is not over,
I am not done telling,

Pick up your pen, and write again.


Write for none other then I, a different insists,
For in I, you one wrote,
"Life's for the living, the laughing, the chance takers, the gamblers of love.
If you must obsess on one thing, as you surely do, then go live it."

My story has not ended,
I am not done talking,

Pick up your pen, and write again.


Whispering scrawls filled the night,
Overlapping, strangling one another,
Until all that could be heard,
Was the gentle breathing of pages.

She stands the one that runs from reality,
From its open brutality,
She fell back to the delusions of legendary,
To the tales of gods, demons, and speaking weaponry.

To the others, this is all there is to find,
A mad woman, with half a mind.

To the man at her side, there was more to see,
Her eyes as clear as the raging sea.

You owe me the world, she would accuse,
Her words never once found a thoughtful muse,
Before they flew into the air,
Twisting and winding as a snare.
No one could recall, to this day,
What she had once forgotten to say.

You owe me the world, she would assure,
The question of her past, a tempting lure,
Never would it be told, she promised,
For it is beyond my fading knowledge.
No one could guess, to this day,
Her story untold, and she rather liked it this way.

You owe me the world, she would add,
Her hair oddly clad,
Twisted and wound with the braids of a child,
With every movement, the jewels woven within smiled.
No one imagined, to this day,
Why white decorated her young head, and this way, it would stay.

You owe me the world, she reminds,
Her thoughts the most figetting of minds,
Eyes ever watching,
Her guard ever plotting,
Hunting or fleeing, who was to know?
Even to him, such was never to be made a show.

The man, aware of his ignorance,
Stood his ground, and demanded the many answer’s appearance,
For I, he had claimed,
Have stood by you always, asked no questions, he proclaimed.
Answer me now, everything that you have hid,
Without pause or lid.

I am owed such things, he continued direly,
For I have loved you always and entirely.

If you have ever felt this love’s return,
Answer me now, or to you, my back will forever turn.

Turn from me, then, she had thrown,
I have never known you to wail and moan!
If by my side you have stood,
For answers, no one else could,
Then return to me never again,
You traitorous, wretched man!

After the man was good and gone,
The woman numbly whispered some old song,
Its lyrics worn and old,
Quiet upon a voice once so bold.

You owe me the world, she sang with a voice of fine,
Because, you stole mine.