I've often thought that my cat was trying to kill me.
After all, they never do anything for you,
but they always demand so much in return.
Sure they rub against your leg,
but that is only because they are mad.
They use the litter box five times a day,
not because they have to, but because they want
to watch you to clean it for them and
enjoy the look of your face as you scrunch
your nose and curse life and everything that is sane.
They are evil genius you see, but they still can't speak.
But, no one said they have to.
For con artists, all you require is a cute face and a purr
as sweet as crickets humming in the evening around a pond.
Immediately a metal heart melts into impure lava
with flecks of mortality kicking in.
Cats are immortal, I am convinced,
and they want nothing more than to amuse themselves
with the petty lives of humans who inherently believe
they are smarter than all the rest of creation.
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