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To A Dog

It was found in the fog.

By Phillip WoodfordPublished 7 years ago 1 min read
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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
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About the Creator

Phillip Woodford

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

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