Every evening I lay awake on the floor.
As my master sits on that couch
with a fift of liquor in his hand.
He kicks me in the stomach.
I cry, if only I had thumbs.
I'd throw knives at you in your sleep.
Shove my thumbs in your eyes, penetrating your brain.
Poke your throat multiple times with my claws.
Pour hot boiling water down your human throat hole.
You're always kicking me,
hitting me with full force.
I have an eye missing now because of you.
If only I had thumbs now to hurt you the way you've been hurting me.