I can never come back, I will not be your ham-hock, a bone to be squabbled over, and buried as a trophy, gnawed and *****.
Its the hound dog moaning, when it loses the battle that grinds me up the most. The avalanches of sadness heaped up like earth kicked up by a dog, who is searching for the bone it buried so long ago, leaving muddy holes all over my once pristine lawn... that is what hurts the most.
Its better to be the dog that loses the fight, than it is to be the bone.