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Poem

We are sick to think we have done something big.
We are in a daze and nothing more.
The cats that came were deformed.

They legs were made to dance.
They pantomime.
The rigmarole was a silent scream.
                   
                   [Meowl]

They were as colorful as butterflies.
They walked around with scary eyes.
The fat men that brought them were sloppy pigs.
They were sick to think they had done something big.

Immense the ravage these pigs were.
They were friends to the deformed felines.
They stomachs were made to prey human.
The raze caused confusion.

They were to form the great divided.
They walked around with scary eyes.
They would feast on the rodents that thrive in the ground.
They were to be taught this or they would be wiped out.

On a deadly morn, the cats woke.
By noon, the pigs honked.
The people of the City did their work.
This would be the day guns smoked.

The Cats lives were lived in dilapidation.
The Pigs lives were in slop.
The Wild Boars would try to convert.
The pigs were pigs ate by the humans.

The battle started.
The humans killed more.
The wild boars receded.
The deformed felines were destroyed.

                   MEOWL!
_________|
~Inspired by the expressive art of poetry via storytelling, fantasy, fairy tales, tall tales, etc.~

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