A Critic

Rosy-cheeked tickled pink
By outrageous cat-calls
By Dogs barking lascivious soliloquies
Hoping for pale moons to show.
I was there when it occurred
When the beast did prey on their predators
Coyly asking "Come hither"
Showing their tails
And running away.
The kittens run faster than the cats
Naively
Only to be caught twice as fast
Torn apart
And left by the side of the road
Wiser but still pitiful
The cats play with their preys
They know
That without proper and caring guidance
The dogs that hound them
Would be left chasing their own tails
Panting pathetically
So they play
And the kinder ones stay
And I saw it all
Locked up in my cage.