A bunch of birds, who died of unnatural causes. Only one with a name. Only one with a kind glimmer in its eye. Only one who I didn't want to die.
A cat who got run over. Kitcat was its name. Alive in the morning, dead by the time I got back from school.
Two rabbits who ran away. One grey, one black; both gone for eternity. They ran around energetically and always played.
A flash of memorys for each, always ending devastatingly. If I could go back in time, I would just left all the doors closed and lights switched off so I wouldn't have to watch those things happen or feel so small and helpless when they did. After all, I haven't had a pet since I was a minuscule kid. These memories make it so hard to watch awful things and now I don't. I don't want pets. I know how they end up.
YOU ARE READING
The First Fifty Pages Of Me by Nailinthewall
PoesieThis is all the weird things I think and what I will never say. And my personal journey in my last year of school.
