luce

it is nothing more than a chain
disguised with loving claw marks
and rotten fur at the end.

A good dog
is what humans desire.
a friendly and behaved lot if they have one.
they never want a rogue
they never want one with scars.
no spots, no dirt, no mess.
a prince with strong legs
and a mouth filled with blunt teeth.
with no rage in its bones
and empty eyes
that they can fill with trepidation.

But dogs are not born that way.
they are created to be violent
to be scary
to snarl at the wandering hands that mean nothing.
instead we're forced to be indifferent
to not whine,
even when our ribs show
not out of hunger
but the internal screaming,
coming from being moulded into human.
as if there is someone constantly stepping on our tails
telling us we are not dogs.

I never wanted to be violent.
sometimes I wish I did not require a leash,
that I could run free
on the meadows I dream
at far away distances that I never get to see.
I am a violent dog after all
but I was taught to not bite.
to not growl, to not smite
others and kids, and be
something I am not.

I act so calm,
almost like a corpse of a loyal dog
that lay at its master's feet
with gratitude that tastes like poisonous flowers
and serenity that feels like the dying calm
running deep in one's veins.
no one would know
that I am a violent dog.
they would pet me with gentle hands
and loving words.
but the second I stare for too long,
or bark at someone new
I turn into a monster.
I turn into a violent dog
and they decide I bite.