the stench of rain, of fear,
of the perils that come with the storm that nears.
gone are the hours and many sickening days,
yet my fleabitten fur remains tear-stained, scarred and riddled with mange.
i do not bite the hand that feeds,
only to turn in towards the self.
i teeth and gnaw on my limbs, rip the fur from my skin,
in the hopes i can change myself for the next passerby off the streets.
and oh how lonely my little hidey-hole has become,
this abode called a room that keeps me caged safely from all hurt, all love —
though i cannot tell one from the other, even after all this time.
i’m usually wrong though, thanks to these hungry worthless eyes.
i’m afraid. i’ve seen all colors of abuse and neglect before,
all because i was more than anyone bargained for.
this tale old as time,
where nobody can learn how to handle an old dog’s heart like mine.
and yet i yearn for more. a life better than this.
for softness, for grace,
for a familiar face that’ll fill me with bliss.
oh, how i ache, how i howl and whine,
i’ve begged before, used up all my tricks.
i want to wag my tail for you, can you not see this?
not see me? my puppy eyes?
they too were once full of love.
i know i’m reluctant, but
i’ll do anything for a warm hug.
but i’m a mutt.
a stray.
i’m no better than a man,
no better than the sorrows or deeply rooted anger
that still taints my veins…
is this all i am?
please, please please please
i am just asking you to stay.
