Skin the Cat

Four-thirty in the morning,
before the sun rose,
my old darling went missing.

At first I thought she ran off,
then I saw the blood,
where it trailed from my backdoor.

Like a trail of red breadcrumbs,
followed by hansel,
I walked to my neighbor's house.

Their boy had always been weird,
quiet and bug-eyed,
although I thought him harmless.

I couldn't deny the proof,
the spatters end here,
at little Joey's window.

One loud knock on their front door,
his mother answered,
"oh, what did my boy do now?

I told her of my lost cat,
that woman yelled out,
"get your butt in here you brat!"

Joey sauntered into view,
"I didn't do it,"
though his face said different.

She gripped his left ear harshly,
and led me inside,
his bedroom reeked of dead flesh.

"What did you do, you sick freak!"
I got no answer,
like I said, he was quiet.

The bloodstains on his carpet,
led under his bed,
where we found my darling cat.

My darling was flayed alive,
by little Joey,
I asked him why he did it.

He said he wanted to prove,
the old proverb true,
but skinning cats ain't easy.