I TRY TO WRITE YOU POEMS
BUT THE WORDS, THEY DON'T MAKE SENSE!

The clouds that blotted the sky were white, like cotton, sparsely covering the sky, keeping the blue sky behind it. Sethiram sat by the rubble statue in the center of town, leather pouch before him and a paw digging into the said pouch. He pulled out his leatherbound paper book and a rudementary pencil, then set the pouch aside.

Flipping through the pages until he found an empty one, he flattened the book and looked around. When it came to drawing, he never really knew what he would end up drawing. But as his paw wrapped around the pencil awkwardly, he started scribbling. Messy shapes became easier to understand as the visage of Aeisor came into view. A smile came to his face, though part of it was jagged due to scales.