(guess I decided to give poetry a whirl. Made it like a short story though)

If likened in battles,
and battles well fought,
one could then say,
that all was for naught.

For when the cat spins,
and into the frey,
one will lose battles,
day after day.

If you dare take the Mew,
with his claws of disdain,
then watch your poor creature,
writh in all pain.

Beware the small kitty,
and underrate them not,
or you will see then,
that no battle twas well fought.