A/N: Written for the Titles Set Boot Camp, #20 – full of licks.
A Larger Poetry Collection
238. Full of Licks
He was human, but lost in the trills only animals could bear
he sometimes forgot; he'd been a human too long,
hated as a human too long
And now his comfort was from his doggy form:
the soft hands petting his fur and combing out the grime
(though the grime came back, all too quickly
and the hands were just too few)
but to those kind souls he gave wholeheartedly licks
that were shaken away and laughed after
or a face scrunched after
with disgust
But it was better than undiluted hatred
and it was the only way he could be happy
and say thanks.