deepundergroundpoetry.com

I'm the Cat

I could imagine the brushing away of your skin,
Sliding off you like a wasteful film,
As an emotional scientist,
I pick you apart
And soak in your sins,
And
Like all the days before,
You are a beautiful spinning top
And, again, I am the useless prop,
A byproduct of someone else’s thought,
And I discover the hard way
You can never be bought.
Written by Gnashville (These Watery Eyes)
Published
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