To A Dog

It was found in the fog.

To A Dog

Through the falling fog You spy a forlorn sight A shaking damp dog As black as night

It is small and vulnerableIn you arms you bear it Slowly not so lovableBut you cannot admit

Heavy like lead Fat on choice cuts So well fed

Until the day It lays down. You are crushed and suffocating.

sad poetrysurreal poetry
Phillip Woodford
Phillip Woodford
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Phillip Woodford

I write therefore I am, or something like that. My areas of interest are social justice, and philosophy.

See all posts by Phillip Woodford