Dog.
There hasn’t been and never will be anyone like you.
You always seemed so broken, a glassless mirror.
No matter how odd, I still looked into you.
Where you saw tragedy, I saw potential.
Where there was pain, I saw gain.
Words do you little justice,
For what we did, cannot be spoken.
It is true that my lines were too fierce,
That your mind was not oiled enough.
However the joy of inadequacy made it, unique
Or so we thought.
Nights came and went, with your screams at my doorstep.
The illusion of peace was no more, an echo.
You hid and you hit where you could,
This proved to do little good.
If you see me now,
Would you thank or attack me?
I must ask you how,
How were you able to set yourself free?
Jan 19, 2018
Jan 19, 2018 at 4:13 PM UTC
Dog.
There hasn’t been and never will be anyone like you.
You always seemed so broken, a glassless mirror.
No matter how odd, I still looked into you.
Where you saw tragedy, I saw potential.
Where there was pain, I saw gain.
Words do you little justice,
For what we did, cannot be spoken.
It is true that my lines were too fierce,
That your mind was not oiled enough.
However the joy of inadequacy made it, unique
Or so we thought.
Nights came and went, with your screams at my doorstep.
The illusion of peace was no more, an echo.
You hid and you hit where you could,
This proved to do little good.
If you see me now,
Would you thank or attack me?
I must ask you how,
How were you able to set yourself free?
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