Curiosity that killed the cat,
Like mom told me,
For whom it’s true—
Can I invite you?
In a room aglow with bluish light,
A child sits still on a dead night.
It kills the cat, deceiving deep,
It aches and sprawls where shadows creep.
Notifications that bloom like fireworks,
Yet each one leaves a bruise.
It looms in the dark, soft and blue,
An ache the glow keeps cultivating.
A fang beneath its greeting,
A scenic light, a hunter disguising.
Threads of social media posts—
Each click, a kill in a lore untold.
Bruised, but breathing—like a cat half-killed.
Each message stitched with a silent thread.
“You’re special,” the last thing typed,
A lure, a trap—still weaving in the loom.
