Please wash away my sorrow and pain.
Let it flow down the streets with the rain.
Dissolved in torrents of despair and sadness,
Joining others on its way past the madness.

The ocean may take it far away,
To places, we cannot even say.
Where no one recognizes its sting
Or knows the infliction it can bring.

Let the rain grow harder with its might,
Becoming hail on this fateful night.
I want to be free of all traces
Of unwanted feelings and faces.

My body grows cold from the rain.
It stands clean and free from the pain.
Shivers create a path down my spine,
As I wait in the dark woods of pine.

I hold my head high to the wet spray.
It becomes a mist of blue and grey.
The faucet has turned off for the night,
Leaving me feeling clean and so right.



     A boring afternoon at the pet store.
     “What to do? What to do?”
     The white cat pondered to herself.
     The only movement in the store
     was an annoying fly.
     It flew round and round the store.
     As if looking for the perfect spot to land.
     The four kittens followed the fly with their eyes.
     In fact, they couldn’t keep their eyes off of him.
     The fly was black and furry.
     He also had some unusual yellow stripes down his back.
     The smallest cat wanted him for a new baby brother.
     The Tom cat wanted to swat the thing with his tail.
     The fly finally landed.
     On the Tom cat’s nose.
     “Ouch,” Tom cat screamed out.
     “He bit me!” He said while rubbing his nose.
     Fluffy, the big white cat, ran over to big Tom.
     She said,”He didn’t bite you but stung you.”
     “Oh no! Oh no! What should I do?”
     Tom began to run around in circles.
     The white cat moved closer to look at his nose.
     “It’s fine. If it swells, we’ll put ice on it. It looks better
     than the poor fly.”
     The four cats looked down at the fly lying on the ground.
     “He gave his life so he could sting you,” Fluffy said. 
     “But why would he do that?” Tom looked confused.
      “It’s the way of life,” Fluffy said in a sad voice.
      “I know! We should bury him with a service and all.”
      The little voice came from the youngest kitten.
      They all agreed with him.
      Not having a yard for a burial, they wrapped the fly
      in a tissue and were going to flush him down the toilet.
      But first, the youngest, Squeaky, said a few words.
      Squeaky was sad that the fly didn’t even have a name.
      “Let’s call him Mr. Bee,” Fluffy suggested to the group.
      “Why? He was a fly.” Squeaky was upset.
      “No, my dear, he was a bee. And that is why he stung Tom.”
      Squeaky began to cry.
      After wiping his nose and eyes, Squeaky agreed to call
      him Mr. Bee.
      “Goodbye, Mr. Bee. We’re sorry we didn’t get to know you
      better. I hope you make friends in your new life.”
      With that said, Squeaky flushed the toilet and watched
      Mr. Bee float away to his new life.
      “Goodbye Mr. Bee,” Squeaky said. “We’ll miss you.”