











































xLilacVixenx wrote:The lioness has stalked her prey,
She knows her rule and purpose,
To find her meal, once a day,
More would cause meal-surplus.
She could have skipped her hunting, sure,
But what else would she gain?
Several starving cubs, pure,
It would but cause great pain.
She leaps into the air, hoping to catch the kill,
But all that's left of the animal before,
Is a high and squeaky shrill.
Her ears prick up, that familear sound,
She remembered from not long ago,
The pitter-patter of small feet,
To which a cub will show.
The lioness, in doubt, lept at the on-coming sound,
And with tradgedy, landed down,
On her little cub, on the ground.
She cries and tears run from her eyes,
She doubted the sound from around the bend,
The pitter-patter of welcoming feet,
That will never patter again.
This is an actually really sad poem I just wrote. (With several mistakes, I must add) 'Twould be sad if this happened. :'(











































































































Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 85 guests