i'm not a violent dog

you're an angel, i'm your dog

i sit here in the aftermath of what i have done. i see the blood on my hands but i do not flinch, is it mine or is it theirs? i can't tell anymore, we all bleed the same. i have been here as long as i can remember. this is home but it's not mine, it belongs to them. how must it feel to have something that's just yours, i can't even imagine. i am not a violent dog, i don't know why i bite.

i don't want to fight anymore, a moment of peace is all that i want. i can't remember why i started it but it's all that i know. can i be myself if i stop now? if i stop fighting, will i survive? i am not a violent dog, i don't know why i bite. i don't want to, i want to be like them. how does one stop being a violent dog when that's all that they know? i don't know anymore.

they think i like fighting. the resistance soothes me. but no. i don't like who i am, i don't know why i can't be tame like others. why can't i feel it when they finally love me — if they ever do. i was born like this, it's the only explanation that'll fit the mold they poured me into. when you're born on the streets, you're a stray, you fight to survive but i had a home. i had a home that kept me up all night, a sense of abandonment lodged in my throat like a cry for help. strays are abandoned, lost, unloved, though sometimes pitied. can you refer to me as a stray if i'm abandoned and lost like them? am i a stray, too, if i’m just as lost? i am not a violent dog, i don't know why i bite. i don't want the red staining me.

i flinch at kindness, i don’t understand love. i flinch. i bite when they come too close. i bite enough for it to sting. i bite down hard leaving marks. everything i have ever let go of carries scars. maybe i am scared. the thought of being held — terrifies me. abandonment is all i know but still, i bite when someone tries to stay. i bite like violent ones but i am not a violent dog. i don't know why i bite.

i still fight, after telling him that i won't bite. i will keep fighting — its all i know. the anger inside me has been here since i was just a lump because it was inside her. my teeth always aim for the neck, my nails sharpen into claws, my gum will always have traces of flesh. i can't blame them. i get angry, and i bite. i don't want to, can you help me stop please.

can we stop it before it's too late? can we?

i am not a violent dog but i still bite. i bite when they reach out to pet me. i will bite if they hold me. i bite because it's all i know. this fire of anger hasn't taught me anything but survival. survival and nothing else. i won't lie, it does help me cool off when i get angry but i don't like it at all. it reminds me where i came from, it was so confusing as a little girl.

when you — no, i had to learn it because your home is just a house you live in some days. some days are rougher than others, it hurts when the days catch up to you. when you can't do anything but weep in your bed because you're just a little girl. when you — no, i learned to bite my tongue to soften the blow. so, the little girl wouldn’t have to cry all night long. the pea under the mattress hurts when you're not flesh and bones but bruises. i learnt how to bite my tongue first, then i learnt how to bite my finger when i was out of line but there was always blood in my mouth. i forgot how my mouth tasted without all the blood in it. i never even noticed when the fear turned into anger. when the rawness of flesh between my teeth was no longer mine.

i lived. quiet, white rage has always lived inside that little girl. i had to survive, the survival of the fittest. if you won't bite, you’ll be eaten alive. maybe i was born like this, starving and hungry. i am hungry, it's all i have ever known. i shout on top of my lungs just so i can be heard. i take hits like it's all i have ever known. i don't cry into my bed at night. i am not a violent dog, i am scared that i will turn into one. that all i will ever know is to bite, i don't want to bite. please, i am not a violent dog.

there will always be a question hidden deep inside me. you're an angel. and i — i am a violent dog. you take care of me and still — i bite. i keep waiting for the day you'll see me for what I am — a violent dog, not a god. you'll look into my eyes and see a violent dog. how will you love me then? knowing that i will bite the hand that feeds me because it's all i have ever known. i beg you — please don't see that i'm just a violent dog. i don't know why i bite.