Out in the streets,

Hunting cats,

Who hunt mice,

Until they squeak.

I hate the silence,

That comes after violence.

Summer in April,

I miss the chills,

Meanwhile the cats,

Are out for a kill.

What a stupid world,

We have to live in.

So tired,

To be lied at,

To play along and pretend that

this is not the coming end.

Let the sun burn away my anxiety.

Let's overthrow the cat's society.

You just answer,

With pain in your eyes,

"Are we not all mice?

Do we not all squeak,

At the end of the heat?"

Next morning you were gone.

Burnt away by the sun.

Now I miss your persistence,

And I miss your paw.

Without you,

It's going to be a lonely war.

04/2024