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s.o.c. 3
Dogs don't feel guilt, they just feel fear. When they sit there, sclera shimmering, hunching to hide from shouted scoldings, floppy ears fused to their skulls, they're not sorry. They're scared. Of course they're scared. They don't know what they did is wrong until the screaming starts. It's not their fault their teeth are tearing through their inflamed gums, and the couch is the closest thing they can chew.
By Wen Xiaoshengabout a year ago in Poets
If It Were in My Power…
If It Were in My Power… If it were in my power, I’d build a city, a magical tower. Where the flutter of doves in their gentle flight Would turn life’s song into endless delight. Where jingling breaths, like anklets, sing, And senses soak in the hues of spring. Where the moon would never fade or wane, And moonlight’s fabric would gently sustain The barren souls of a thirsty earth, Clothing their hearts with endless worth.
By Muhammad Waseem about a year ago in Poets
