He should have been innocent at ten Out from his mother's den Not like a rogue cub that's bitten His furry experiment, a kitten How can he be so rotten For he purchased a ball of cotton It's paws bracing its last amen From a malls pet store then To hell rides, a mortal sin He rode that bus on the chin With a boxed ball at his arm That little ball of fur meant no harm Scratching the whim of the boy His pet was making such a noise All those rider's eyes cast on him Red faced and on a limb He covered the boxes vents So no noise to him made sense Taking the ball of furs' breath away How can his head be in a cloud The devil speaking loud As the frantic meows began to stop It's tongue flop, flop, flop Frozen in transit, as his kitten soon lay It's ice floating in his shallow bay Dark was the boys discovery A lifetime of no recovery Remembering those pinks be crying Trashing about and dying That little ball of fur sitting still Such a death, is this bitter pill For the young boy fell off from this branch Unforgiving of the kitten's trance
The writers pen takes the readers down a path that's dark and cold, where ***** of fire replace ***** of cotton. Sadly. He does imagine and create the day, of that child looking into the cardboard box. The stillness. The kitten's elongated body rigid to the touch. All the while his bay losing depth, life, and sunshine, as the years continued on. The part of the poem that I like is the boy fell off a branch but first he was faced with a limb.