“i'm not a violent dog, i don't know why i bite” except everyone has it in their mind that you are that violent dog, that you need to be muzzled and crated away, put down before the inevitable happens. leashed to master's side and forced to heel, put one paw out of place and it's back to the pound you go. their love is a transaction and you're the end result, and if they don't like what they see, you'll never feel the shape of their love again. rage swallows you whole. you burn with something others don't see, something akin to walking on glass. but no one cares to see it, no one ever will. after all, you're just a violent dog.











