She must have been kicked unseen or brushed by a car.
Too young to know much, she was beginning to learn
To use the newspapers spread on the kitchen floor
And to win, wetting there, the words, "Good dog! Good dog!"
We thought her shy malaise was a shot reaction.
The autopsy disclosed a rupture in her liver.
As we teased her with play, blood was filling her skin
And her heart was learning to lie down forever.
Monday morning, as the children were noisily fed
And sent to school, she crawled beneath the youngest's bed.
We found her twisted and limp but still alive.
In the car to the vet's, on my lap, she tried
To bite my hand and died. I stroked her warm fur
And my wife called in a voice imperious with tears.
Though surrounded by love that would have upheld her,
Nevertheless she sank and, stiffening, disappeared.
Back home, we found that in the night her frame,
Drawing near to dissolution, had endured the shame
Of diarrhoea and had dragged across the floor
To a newspaper carelessly left there. Good dog.
Brooding behind a veil of false happiness,
I smile and wave for the masses.
Never revealing my true madness,
The people laugh and sit on their *****.
I say "Excuse me miss, but your vanity is showing,"
She covers her chest and calls me a pig.
Her brightest color is now truly glowing,
The red of evil hidden in her blonde wig.
I've had enough of this anger and regret,
So I throw my sorrow to the sea.
Let it fall as the sun will set,
And watch it sink with all my misery.
I'll find structure among the destruction,
And settle where others dare not to go.
I'll find some truth within the corruption,
And find my true colors to show.
Cult popularism overtakes my brain
Conformity rushing unwillingly, stiflingly, down my throat
The literature of the mind taken from me
By my own devices
The lure of the cliched mass' is oblivion
Fufillment of an expected mold
Individuality of thought drains away
May my overthinking of all be lost
In this teenage stereotype
Just thoughts on how when a shy individual, with all their quirks and whatnot, is tempted by the life of the 'popular' person, accepting usually means cutting away your more individual opinions and behaviour