Your hand
A collar across my throat
Choking me
As I beg
To be loved as human
Not a dog
Not a pet
But as someone of worth
With ideas and dreams
Yet your boot
Presses against my cheek
And the juice
Of pomegranates
Spills across the floor
And stains my face.
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Author:
Kinsey Peterson (
Offline) - Published: February 27th, 2024 15:13
- Comment from author about the poem: Would you like the next poem to be religious or sad? Both are in queue. As always, I greatly appreciate critique and suggestion.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
Offline)
Comments1
in view of the fact this page leaves me both in awe and feeling sad .. although I am not religious, maybe a religious theme or flavour wouldn't go amiss miss .. Neville
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