Inside

March 27, 2013

My paws are swollen My puppies are nipping I want to bark, but my vocal cords are broken I look at my puppies then start licking To clean a face I will never see again For I am the mother Stuck in this place Stuck in this small pen Where feces smoothers me This dark, dank, basement Where the stench stings While people from outside Come to take my puppies away Never knowing of me The voiceless mother inside

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Comments (2)

DevasiaNApr 3, 2013

Wow..I am astounded... absolutely speechless! You completely reiterate the fact that genuine poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words, which can communicate even before it is completely understood. It flowed nicely, almost like a well developed story. Your message was delivered in such a way that allowed me, as the reader, to feel hidden emotions and feel the emotions and development of your narrator. Mere perfection. "Always be a poet, even in prose." :)

faithfulbuddy2Mar 27, 2013

I was inspired to create this to show how people may never realize that the puppy they purchased came from a puppy mill. Always ask who was the mother and father of the puppy before purchasing.