Poor cat poor cat
With a noose ’round her neck
Poor cat poor cat
How did she get into that?
Poor cat poor cat
Did I do this to you?
Poor cat poor cat
I do not have a clue
Poor cat poor cat
After I killed my wife
Poor cat poor cat
You were the only life
Poor cat poor cat
Now that you are gone
Poor cat poor cat
I’ll find another one
I enjoyed the darkness of this.
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You can take pills for this, you know. Whiskey helps.
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Frank, this is a tribute to how the circle has a hold on our lives.
Very well presented and this can be the lesson in “What?” I like it.
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I really really like your poetry. You got something unique.
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Thanks a lot.
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Did you mean to create a poem that can be read from top to bottom as well as from bottom to top? Very nice, like it a lot!
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I didn’t mean to. Thanks a lot for showing it to me.
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Narrator fell for a broken woman whom he’d have an affair with which cost him his marriage. Perhaps not exactly what you might have been aiming for but I’d like to think that if nothing else the narrator sounds very selfish when he say he can “find another one.”
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That’s one way of looking at it.
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Both are selfish then. How would you describe it? I know you’re a vague person but perhaps a little nudge in the right direction?
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Let’s see — the narrator is a lonely man suffering from fits of rage and memory lapses. All he’s got for company is a cat. In one such fit of rage he kills the cat and goes to sleep. When he wakes up he doesn’t remember doing it. Just like he doesn’t remember doing it to his wife.
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Kind of like The Shining. I get it now.
He’s a sporadic personality in which he’s at least somewhat aware of. The loneliness comes from that knowledge as well as his rage. He doesn’t understand the concept of grief because of his said condition and it just becomes a vicious cycle. Basically he ruins everything he touches and loves.
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Really beautiful poem, and now a beautiful poor cat has to be replaced
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Thanks
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He really is a poor cat.
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interesting but funny, and has some element of suspense…one would hardly know the cat was already dead before you wrote the first words of the poem…
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