I’m sorry to hear about your dog.
Her paw couldn’t do a lick of moves.
She can no longer sleep, which makes sense.
I wish I could play the piano for her.
Oh my girl ! What ma do.
You see me as a chicken, your dog.
So maybe I am a sack of grief
but that pup was published in Cambridge
companions to the damned.
Ma gave the child the dog a bark.
I heard the dog.
I hated the dog.
The dog that I had really loved bones everyday.
What a muck it made.
You’d think it was a group
but really it was a luck underdog.
Sometimes I got carried a why is that a duck ?
Why is that a duck ?
Every time I’m grilled I’m stumped.