so often when I feel
like the dog I am
I let my hair grow
avoid the shower
my convalescence
is more like
my reluctance
to let sleeping dogs
lie and die
preventing what I was
being what I could be
in my weakened state
my reformed stance
crumbles
I scratch my skin
in failure
to let the sin out
to let the pain free
but
a touch of love
can cut through
the resounding
feeling of loathing
feather down soft
like Egyptian cotton
of the finest quality
so I plead and beg
like the dog I am
open my wounds
show them to you
welcome the help
the antiseptic
of kindness
and empathy
that you give
*
Thanks for reading!
Author's Notes: This was originally published on Medium via the publication Scuzzbucket on March 27th, 2025. You can find the link below:
About the Creator
Paul Stewart
Award-Winning Writer, Poet, Scottish-Italian, Subversive.
The Accidental Poet - Poetry Collection out now!
Streams and Scratches in My Mind coming soon!
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