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For I Am Not A Dog

Once only a heavy weight, staring are the ears,
With eyes straining, over the shoulders is a calamity.
Golden beyond the wrists, my arms shadow my body,
I am a wolf of design, habit; I am a dirty man of dogs,
Golden and brown ask the shoulders, golden and brown.

For they call me a lucifer beast, a scared situated mammal,
Fiercely attached to other worlds this stroke of time.
Leathery and grey my shift is narrow and straight, like a legged
Monster of mayhem and deceit, the old worries seem rare.

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Friday, July 26, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: dog,metamorphose,wolf
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