An autopsy of the saying "Curiosity killed the Cat"

Quite often, we hear the popular phrase "Curiosity killed the Cat".

Know, gentlemen, that curiosity

did not cause the Cat's death.

The true story is that the Cat,

in his curious nature, wanted to know everything.

For days and nights, the Cat prowled through rooftops and alleys,

doors and windows (transparent and black),

hunting and unearthing for the truth.

The Cat wandered to the bleakest confines of the abyss

and gazed into its depths. It was then that the Cat realised it:

The abyss always stares back.

The Cat jumped as if he had seen a snake 

(perhaps it was just a cucumber).

The Cat ran at full speed and tore everything in his path.

But he couldn't tear the abyss's gaze away.

Curiosity didn't kill the Cat.

It was something worse: The Cat learned The Truth.

The Cat kept running away,

trying to hide and escape

(but ​​The Truth never sets you free:

once you have dared to see it,

you become its eternal slave).

The Cat then became practical:

He took out a life insurance policy

and when one didn't seem enough,

he took out eight more.

But nothing was enough.

The Cat regretted every day of his nine lives

the audacity of having seen The Truth

without thinking about what it meant;

he wondered if one day in his nine lives,

he would simply return to being 

the Cat he was before

he looked into the abyss.

The Cat began to see the world with a different 

(perhaps even paranoid) curiosity:

He saw shadows revolving and revolting in each corner,

and heard the deepest despair in the hollow eyes of the ones 

who drifted along with him.

He could see the difference between innocent and evil smiles

(and felt utter compassion for those who couldn't tell the difference until it was too late).

The Cat existed in a suspended order between mortal and immortal:  

He would walk among others, 

aware of the depth of his knowledge, 

but he would still look for the careless innocence 

of the ones who hadn't seen enough yet.

The Cat became a reader. 

He could read rooms, patterns, intentions and pain so easily, 

that his path became effortless to traverse, yet excruciating to bear.

He could clearly see

who deserved cuddles,

who should love him,

and who he should ignore

(and whoever dares to deceive the Cat,

even today faces the imminent fate

of seeing The Truth through his eyes).

The Cat continued to flee from The Truth and the abyss,

but The Truth is faster than cats,

and the abyss is deeper

than any cat imagines.

So if you ever notice a cat running away,

take pity on his hunted fate:

Curiosity didn't kill the Cat,

but it did end his life.