The Agile Death - The Process

The cat's eyes shift from side to side,

Searching desperately for the predator

that was cause something to die

and rot in the intense temperature.

But from from this place I call home,

deep in the forest, I believe it was the core

of the rain-filled jungle that I roamed.

The cat was a tiger back then,

That much I remember.

The black stripes from a god's pen,

Resting upon the fur of ember.

Its teeth were large and strong;

its claws as well.

But an unknown threat sung its song,

A lullaby from Hell.

The cat I see now is not much unlike its jungle cousin

For it will meet the same end.

It seems like death comes in dozens,

And yet it has no friends.

I suppose death merely steals them away,

Taking them from us while we watch

So powerlessly, every single day.

So to take away the pain, we'll drink some scotch.

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This poem is an original and the first (currently) of a collection of mine called "The Process." I know the last line may seem a little out of place, but it will make more sense once I post the second poem. Anyways, I really ought to get some sleep so I am not too tired to work in class tomorrow.

So until next time,

-Zero