Rantings of a lonely heart : This is a metaphor.

life in the jungle was getting hard. baloo was no longer the gentle bear he had once been and these days, at best, was reknown throughout the green for his drunken, abusive ways, it was a bad time for the empire. mowgli too was no longer the young ruffian he once had been. puberty had kicked in and boy, it had kicked him hard. minus an education or any kind of working experience, mowgli hitchiked himself towards the city of london. to sign on, to sign off and sign on again intermittantly. the streets were no longer paved with gold as they once, so gloriously had been. it was a bad time for the empire. both the get up kids and the living end had released new work and work to be proud of indeed. young mowgli didn't know much but he knew what he liked. he prided himself on this. however the old townsfolk were not so glad to see mowgli. his darkened tones were a constant impendance and he was daily mocked and aggravated. poor mowgli. it was a very bad time for the empire. so mowgli began his untriumphant return home. he had learned that there are only two types of people in life. bigots and bigots. if you are not one, then you are most certainly not the other. the honey surplus was now non existant. baloo was dying. if you look under the rockas and plants you find nothing and the decaying ants. mowgli was all alone. it was a bad time for the empire.

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username9816

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Mad Caddie

life in the jungle was getting hard. baloo was no longer the gentle bear he had once been and these days, at best, was reknown throughout the green for his drunken, abusive ways, it was a bad time for the empire. mowgli too was no longer the young ruffian he once had been. puberty had kicked in and boy, it had kicked him hard. minus an education or any kind of working experience, mowgli hitchiked himself towards the city of london. to sign on, to sign off and sign on again intermittantly. the streets were no longer paved with gold as they once, so gloriously had been. it was a bad time for the empire. both the get up kids and the living end had released new work and work to be proud of indeed. young mowgli didn't know much but he knew what he liked. he prided himself on this. however the old townsfolk were not so glad to see mowgli. his darkened tones were a constant impendance and he was daily mocked and aggravated. poor mowgli. it was a very bad time for the empire. so mowgli began his untriumphant return home. he had learned that there are only two types of people in life. bigots and bigots. if you are not one, then you are most certainly not the other. the honey surplus was now non existant. baloo was dying. if you look under the rockas and plants you find nothing and the decaying ants. mowgli was all alone. it was a bad time for the empire.