But when will they come back?!

we play, scuttle around joyfully.

the cat’s absence odd,

better make the most of this.

we outnumber the joys we once had.

too many wild nights,

too many squaky crooning.

the stocks we ransacked,

the pantry running low.

the cat is gone, we know.

we hunger: for food, for room.

the life, being like this is terrible.

some violent ones prey on the weak,

some young are left uncared-for.

this is anguish. the order of our lives,

the watchfulness kept us together,

the freedom tears us apart.

we are mice, I say.

yet we lost our heart.

were did our persecutor gone?

what shall we do now?

is there no better way?

those whiskers, those claws,

those teeth, our scurge, our curse.

but we can’t wait,

until this party’s over.

else, we turn to rats,

and suffer the rat-king!