Meriem The Mystical Cat

She whines like a broken flute

Under moonlight’s cheapest hue

Sippin' fake sorrow like cheap wine

Claiming her “melancholy” is divine

God rolled His eyes, I swear He did

When she journaled her sadness like a kid

Stars? More like glitter glue

Trying hard to be “deep,” boo-hoo

Her “inner scars” are Tumblr posts

Reviving trauma like it’s a boast

Torment, torment yes, we’ve heard

Dramatic sighs in every word

There will be time

There will be time

To cry into her overpriced coffee

Facing the sea, acting all lofty

She built an ocean in her room, she said

Girl, that’s just tears and an unmade bed

Eyes like rivers, always raining

Drama queen with zero training

Her skin reflects “sacred geometry”?

More like overpriced astrology

Black dove-wings? Please, be real

Just eyeliner smudged from “how she feels”

She grasped the sky with shaking hands

Posted about it on all her ‘grams

Whispered poems to sad café chairs

Boho novelist? Mid at best who cares?

A flower? No, a drama bouquet

Poisonous petals and clichés all day

Late night vaudeville soul? Alright

More like mood swings after midnight

“Arise, O words,” she cries again

Wants validation from ancient men

Even Egyptian Gods would swipe left fast

Hathor’s rolling in the past

Then she took a trip to feel “everything”

And came back still... feeling nothing

There was a time

There was a time

When she wasn’t crying oh wait, that’s a lie

The stars don’t heal, they cringe above

Watching her fall so in love

With loneliness and dramatics

With vintage filters and sad theatrics

So here’s a toast

To the mystical crybaby cat

Still drunk on poetic wine

Still stuck in her dramatic flat