PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I thought I was a believer

though I felt it’s weird.

Who should I trust?

My dog – god -, for sure.

Men have become astray

and so, have I.

Should I believe myself?

But why?

Once naïve, sleeping like a log

now all is gone in distrust;

all in vain except for my dog.

She stretches her legs on my lap;

no care for little respect.

She feels secure; she knows no trap.