Poem: This Cat
This
Cat
This
little orange cat won't stop 'til he's fat.
He
endlessly howls and thoughtlessly yowls.
He's
not even contrite enough not to bite.
When
he swipes with his paws, he uses his claws.
I
can only choose to bleed or break down and feed.
Maybe
if he gets his food he'll give me an interlude.
I
guess I'll go do that, to get a break from this.
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