She perceives me as a gray cat
I don't know what that means
She says it means that I am mellow
Perhaps melancholy
She thinks highly of that quality of me
I don't quite think that is accurate
She reminds me that I am in fact my own worst critic
So I suppose I shall remain that gray cat
Mellow as can be
YOU ARE READING
What Life Is
PoetryThe poetry journal of a senior in high school. Raw and virtually unfiltered emotions from someone with a lot going on.
