A Sullen Cat

I see outside my sullen house, a cat with a robust tail,
There are mosquitoes sparring a moment to enter my house, as I look upon with love.
I’ve had a fair reverence towards cats lately.
I’ve been known to dismiss cats, very often like my mother.
On a blatantly smarting summer day, I saw in it’s eyes, me.
Sitting potently at the doorstep, eyes calling for thee.
I saw it wishing for a well full of glee.
I saw it wishing for a well full of life.
A drop of burnt water to my skin, I feel at a sudden, I was left akin to pain.
An aching scream and ears sore, my eyes have seen gory visuals by now.
The cat had left in a spree with desolation in it’s eyes.
I realised late, it had burnt in a hurry, too early to let go of life.
It too hates mothers now.
I see my mother grumbling under her breath, as she throws down the bucket to the ground, she cries, her innocence depraved off of the cat.
She’s nice, it’s the cat, she growls.
And today as I look onto the passenger side, I see her, the cat stranded. Painful scars let go of scornful pride. A beautiful pride.
But it’s only to her that she sits on her all fours and that’s her stride.
In her purring eyes I see myself just the last time.
She asks me to leave. She’s determined to do so.
She’s not me anymore.
I’ve been drawn closer to her rage now. I’m boiling with fear now.
And I don’t realise there’s a bucket of boiling bellows, in my hands built of pointed pins of my mother’s bun.
As passersby look on, I realised I’ve burnt her.
I’m now that Hero that aches to burn, not good enough to turn into a villian.
I couldn’t ever leave.
She still resides in my dreams.
I’m nicer to cats now.