deepundergroundpoetry.com
Rex
Here you are.
In this cold room.
I look down upon you.
You lay still..like rotting meat.
I lift your hand gently.
That same hand that beat my dog every single morning since I was 12.
I picked up a knife.
I begin to cut his hand.
It's silent.
I engrave my dogs name on his hand.
That same dog who he would always beat every morning until he died.
In this cold room.
I look down upon you.
You lay still..like rotting meat.
I lift your hand gently.
That same hand that beat my dog every single morning since I was 12.
I picked up a knife.
I begin to cut his hand.
It's silent.
I engrave my dogs name on his hand.
That same dog who he would always beat every morning until he died.
Published 6th Jan 2013
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