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Coup de grâce

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Black cats are supposed to be unlucky if you cross one in your path. Those devilish legs that leap through tall grass. A lion but with grace and elegance.

It is a stray cat it seems; catching its prey and ripping out pinions with its needlelike teeth. A predator. A killing machine — a need for the taste of blood.

If she was a maneki-neko; she would bring fortune to you yet — all she brings with her is trouble. A shadow slithering in the dark, more then what is behind the moon.

A chaotic cat she is.

She likes to stare, watching as I walk past. Her eyes following me like a unhinged man who seemed normal on the first date. From behind a tree or straight through the dark at night.

In the morning, she sits in the chair with shattering sunlight on her fur. A chair with red velvet and golden pins, a throne, a deserving throne at best.

Sometimes she disappears as if into thin air. A void, an alternate reality, an unworldly place. Then the next day, she appears again. As if nothing bothered her, needing a bowl of milk.

She likes to pretend. She like to pretend that I don't know her trueself, under the slight meows and purrs. Cunning and treating me like a fool. But when it suits herself and on her , she fools me thrice.

On her , she doesn't hide except now she is 146cm taller. A slender woman that could make any man cower. Intimidating but powerful. She will make you feel meek as a mouse in her cat paws.

She will torture you for hours playfully before deciding to eat you.

Note: when i was writing this poem, I realised I created a furry. Well I hail this intimidating cat lady now.

image doesn't belong to me

Coup de grâce-[C]

Black cats are supposed to be unlucky if you cross one in your path. Those devilish legs that leap through
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