Cats are of the night
dogs are of the day
when the docile lie asleep
the prowess comes out to play

When the shadows fall thick
and darkness presses low
there is a lingering urge
that only the devious know

It caresses softly
then awakens from within
a feeling which says,
the game will soon begin

Slowly each one emerges
in the cover of the dark
farewell to the white and clean
get ready, on your mark

In hordes they muster
with shameless glee
inside dank alleyways
and on crooked streets

With serpentine movement
across grimy floors
they tempt the innocent
always offering something more

They're bold and daring
tossing bets up high
they scoff at charity
imposing their fiercest war cry

Indulging in scandal
they live for the night
and must disband and scatter
with the first morning light

Their existence may be brief,
blurred, and unknown
their days spent in hiding
from those who cast stones

But despite the sadness
they will never stoop to cry
it is from being society's outcast
that they draw their pride