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261 · May 2019
Dogs
Little puppy born into orphanage and a dream,
Caged in the shelter and fettered by chains,
But stars and stripes glow with a vivid gleam;
And the smell of raw meat runs in his veins.

Now waxed in mettle and a member of the pack,
Moves silently from downwind to become alpha,
Preys on the weak and herds with a subtle attack;
Hence his callous ethos spreads a new miasma.

The scent of blood croons to his ravenous spirit,
The lone wolf on a reign of terror and disregard,
Alas new puppies shall from the ranks and inherit,
For a novel way they shall the auld discard,
They’ll forsake and send him to join the whisperers,
In his crucifixion he will fight his corner with no listeners.
An allegorical poem.
The eerie darkness of the day haunts me,
Hence I know hell is an eternal abyss,
So I search my memories to find the key,
To begin new wonders with no remiss.

The gleaming stars bedeck the sky,
So I gaze at the patterns to find my future;
It’s riddled with misery and the day I die,
Thus I surrender to a reckless adventure,

My heart lays latent as the echo blows away,
And the warblers dance in their chaotic throng,
Hence my heart wanders in a stormy fey,
The babel of discord ails my song;
I'm lost in the wilds with a broken compass,
As a zephyr blows my name into the rumpus.
We often look at the constellations to see our futures. My future has an absence of life and existence.

— The End —