Alana Conway

I'm sick

nothing to do about it

let me go home

it can't be the end of the world if I'm not there for an afternoon, can it?

I'm contagious

everyone else would get whatever the heck I have

you don't want this

Be glad that I am still here

you should love my prescence

why wouldn't you?

I protect your back

that is, when you're looking

I slink along the side of the wall

my dark pelt blending in with the darkness

the fog obscuring my features

but my eyes remain.

You can tell that I watch

that I linger

behind you.

I am back

the fuzzy bandit from before

remember me?

I took your lemonade

next I'll take your socks

those precious person-ornaments made of nice, soft cotton

stolen right off of your feet

hee hee

The world goes on.

Continuing its orbit around the sun.

While we live in our miniature universe. 

With our miniature problems. 

I could be writing right now

about fairytales;

princesses, and dragons,

magic, and the prince that comes to save her.

But life isn't a fairytale for anybody, 

so why write about them?