The Amaranthine Poet

Dying Owls and Chocobos

Today started out terribly. I had a test in one of my classes so I was trying to get to class on time so I wouldn’t miss it, and guess what happened? I lost my keys! So, I am searching all over the place for it, freakin’ out because I have five minutes until my class starts! So, finally,I find my keys, and where were they? Under my pillow…go figure…Anyway, so I grab my purse to go when the needle of one of my pins plunges into my thumb…so I reach for a princess band aid (I got sleeping beauty because I ran out of Ariel and Jasmine), and left. Ok, and then, on my way to class, I tripped over a dying owl and he looked at me and I recognized him from somewhere. So I asked him if he knew who I was and he said, “Who?” So, I told him who I was and he told me he recognized my name but not my face. The poor thing was in pain…I cold see it in his bulbous eyes. He told me a chocobo had gotten a hold of his wing with her mouth and him dragged down to the ground, and people have been trampling over his little heart all day. So, I did my best to make his last hours comfortable: I brought him a tulip filled to the rim with dew (a delicacy in the bird culture), and although it made me cringe and nauseous simultaneously, I collected some fresh shriveled worms glazed with slime and mud for him to nibble on with his beak. He told me to cut off his wings when he died and glue them to the sides of my head and I would be able to fly.
Anyway, so today, I went to my secret place I always used to go to to write poetry, prose and songs (its not really a secret). I used to go there everyday listening to The Cranberries, Everyone is Doing it, So Why Can’t We? I love the song, “Pretty.” Anyway, so that place was my visual and aesthetic muse and escape from disruptions. However, for some reason, I haven’t been there to write since before Eddie and I even were together. Well, I went there today, and it was cool. Ok, bye.