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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Death · #1765238
My baby goat named Bear just died a few minutes ago.
It's 7:30 at night in my house,
And I've just been to check on him,
My baby goat, Bear.
His birth wasn't right,
He came the wrong way,
We didn't think he'd live through the day.
He did, though.
His sister didn't.
We brought him in, and warmed him up.
Gave him food,
That he should live.
He was doing so good,
We were sure he would live now.
We took him to his mother,
And she took him back,
Even though he was so weak
He could barely stand.
He did okay though,
Throughout the day,
Drinking from his mum,
While she cleaned his tiny curls.
We figured he'd be okay outside last night,
It wasn't going to get that cold
It's spring, after all.
But he didn't do so well.
I was sure he wouldn't live through the day.
But I brought him up,
Fed him, and kept him warm,
He seemed like he'd be okay,
He was just a bit sleepy.
I checked on him again,
And he was so tired,
He just slept.
So I left him to sleep.
I came back later,
To sit with him,
Comfort him.
I lifted up the top of his
Cardboard house
And he just laid there.
He didn't make it through the day,
Just till 7:28.

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