Poem of the Dead Cat-w/NB.

Sing away, our voices are safe
Those teeth will grind our wings no more
Our beaks are our revenge.

Show the babies its rotten corpse
The mangled ruins gutted,
Stomach home of maggots-
Not birdie stew

From the grass it killed us
In the grass it died
Guess you’d call that
Symmetry

One day we’ll fly above that grass
See fearless bunnies hopping past
The mausoleum of that cat.

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