The Pig

January 18, 2018
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At the corner of my eye—
The pig rolls around in his mischief,
wrapped in mud and sand.

A shadow appears.


His mother glued to his tail—
replicating his youthful act.
His eyes speak of attachment and affection.


He screams in sentences—
pleading to get what he desires,
that fascinating toy, the sneakiest gadget.


His mother stands with authority—
denying his dreadful plea,
Wearing a serious stare.


Dusk drastically rises.


His energy source becomes scarce—
cries out in tiredness,
his eyes taped open.


Mischief builds up in his dreams.






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