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.