The Rat

The rat was a simple creature, Born from grace and wonder, She had taken liking to many things. The rat would draw what she saw on the television in front of her, Wrote about inspiration on stained sheets of paper, too. Soon, the rat would make friends, though, very few. The rat loved her friends, Instantly growing attached, becoming clingy. She would talk to them everyday, Every star filled night. The rat felt happy. Though, as she still kept them, Quite frequently, would she think of herself only as a burden, To them, her friends. And though she had been born from grace and wonder, She started to loathe her own existence, She felt ugly and rather unworthy. The rat would ask the gods above, Why was she born? Why did she feel malformed? Why? Why? Why? The rat slowly began to isolate herself from everything, Everyone, Even her friends. She would soon look down at the pretty pond, It lay in front of her, shimmering beautifully. It carried promises. The rat leaped into the water, Slowly, she would drown, Sinking, down, down. The only thing left behind, was a heart-shaped locket, Which had been gifted. Inside, there was a picture, A picture of a small green, single eyed, critter, whom the rat cherished.