#47
I am a person. Look into my eyes.
I've a heart-shaped nose and whiskers
With which I whisk away the flies.
I had a mom, but never licked her.
This cat's tattoo is a damned bird.
Between naps, the atavistic urges
Burst from my brain like a cuckoo.
I'll chase anything feathered or furred
Until my unsated sleepiness surges
Or there's nothing left to pursue.
My owner's son pets me, feeds me.
That I need him and he needs me
Is a lie I kindly perpetuate,
Especially after what I just ate.
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