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lonnarin · 05-15-07, 10:43 AM

Cross counters and tabletops
yon mistress of Chaos hops
Devastation lay in her wake
of spilt wine for malice sake
Lamentations of a carpet
crimson stained

Leap into Madness
oh ye of blackened paw
Latch unto mine leg
to bite and kick and claw,
only to primp and pur and prance
thy false dance of innocence

Devour yon chameleon clans dire
Tell-tale tails doth twitch with ire.
Maker of a thousand graves,
hunting all and everything
Tis it eternal souls ye crave?
Blood Rites; a thousand demons sing.

Oh mittens
fiercest above all the kittens
wherein didst this fire of fury spark?
wast thou a killer in a former life,
riding the lightning unto the next?
wast thou a bastard child,
twisted by thy life of strife?
Be ye a beast of the wild,
or be ye merely hexed?

No matter... thy story told,
quakes terror into even the bold.
The pitter patter of bloody splatters,
a poor jogger grasps his neck
and slips into silence forevermore.
Nothing else matters.

Oh Mittens,
Dread kitten...
Why dost thou taketh life?
I feed thee till ye could burst,
it does little to slake that thirst
of mindless blood, torment and rage.
Megaton fury in a tiny furry cage.

05-15-07, 10:43 AM	#10
lonnarin Lich Characters Join Date: Oct 2004 Location: On the moon with the rest of the space kitties Posts: 2,513 Thanks: 1,037 Thanked 836 Times in 350 Posts	Mittens the Ancient Dire Siamese Kitten Cross counters and tabletops yon mistress of Chaos hops Devastation lay in her wake of spilt wine for malice sake Lamentations of a carpet crimson stained Leap into Madness oh ye of blackened paw Latch unto mine leg to bite and kick and claw, only to primp and pur and prance thy false dance of innocence Devour yon chameleon clans dire Tell-tale tails doth twitch with ire. Maker of a thousand graves, hunting all and everything Tis it eternal souls ye crave? Blood Rites; a thousand demons sing. Oh mittens fiercest above all the kittens wherein didst this fire of fury spark? wast thou a killer in a former life, riding the lightning unto the next? wast thou a bastard child, twisted by thy life of strife? Be ye a beast of the wild, or be ye merely hexed? No matter... thy story told, quakes terror into even the bold. The pitter patter of bloody splatters, a poor jogger grasps his neck and slips into silence forevermore. Nothing else matters. Oh Mittens, Dread kitten... Why dost thou taketh life? I feed thee till ye could burst, it does little to slake that thirst of mindless blood, torment and rage. Megaton fury in a tiny furry cage. Last edited by lonnarin : 05-15-07 at 03:42 PM.