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No Sitting on the Furniture
When He has left me home I’ve not worry
Master always has a good return treat
I love master he says I am furry
Oh boy my big owner cannot be beat
Yesterday owner did not get my food
I’d’nt know how this could happen. I’m scared
He is not home where could he be; I cooed
I awoke last night, to a bang that blared
Now the big men who smell like mean work dogs
Run in they take me so rough and quickly
All the people on the street call them hogs
He grabs me, his grip is mean and prickly
Now I am cold, this place is so so loud
Every bark hangs and echos like a cloud
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After studying SHakespeare, I became interested in the sonnet. I knew I wanted to write about death, as much of his work pertains to the theme. I decided to take the incomprehnsibility of a major death to the extreme.