A sleep-deprived being who doesn’t know how to comb her hair. Just another typical cat, making records of her troubles, stating her disillusionment about the society, giving out moronic thoughts over the most insignificant things and some of a hundred everyday menaces. And yes, cats do these.

These are the proofs of my crime, the truth behind my every lie.

(^._.^)

Claire. Had seen no more than nineteen summers.

 

  P.S.

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me" - Phil. 4:13

P.S. II

I tend to make "P.S." and I don't know why. I just do.

P.S. III

See?

P.S. IV

And um, meow?
  • Whiskers

People meet by reason

But with them, they met by season

And as summer is at bay

She has to bid him a good day.

So let them make the most of this month

Every second of their everyday they shall surmount

Then they shall forget each other

Saying “hello” again, they shouldn’t bother.

What is it that he says?

“How come we can’t make things on our way?”

She says “Blame the season, my dear friend”

For it changes, so their love should end.

19 February 2012
8:28 PM
#personal
#poem
#written
  1. alostcat posted this