I am the sorry dog,
Chasing my own tail- a subject of quiet dialogue.

Like the fleas, I cannot shake away,
I cannot seem to shake her face.

I am her sorry dog with no passage of rite,
A tortured creature, though sad and polite.

Love is not for those who preach it,
But for those instead who burn and weep for it.

I am the sorry dog with no home to follow,
Just a broken heart within me,
Blackened and hollow.