Inside
Location
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
Comments
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DevasiaN
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." :)