Hello you awful cat.
Looks like somebody's been cutting your tail off.
Or maybe I'm shrinking away from the fat facts, the Last Night:
the room, bursting with prey.
All the glazy eyes, the glittery blood,
hairsprayed heads thrown back, unprotected sticks and bats.
I just wanted to bury my head in a mane I recognized.
Now I'm all clawed up and shivering blood and you have this smirk, like,
"Sorry to be so graphic. Sorry to leave my pride lion around."
and it's fine, I understand. Every hunt needs a killer.
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