Kitty Cats
There’s a dead crow at your doorstep
Some disemboweled rats by the stairs
They’re gifts from the Undertaker
And signed by the Reaper
Cunning
Deceptive
Sadistic
I don’t think of gifts
I think of scales
Unbalanced
Unhinged
She gifts you with Death
And you always accept
She has unnatural motives
Alternate truths
Backwards curiosity
Delightful psychopathy
You still carry on
Continuing on
Under her spell
Caught in her claws
Mesmerized
Anaesthetized
Paralyzed and victimized
She cruelly seduced you
Conjuring tricks
You look like a fool
Addicted to lies
Disguised as her gifts
There’s blood in your mouth
It crimson and black
The Undertaker’s dream is your early death
Torturing you forever with Hate’s last breath
You’re nearing the End of Times
So if you don't want to die
You need to skin that cat alive
You’ll need to do it at least nine times