Stray dogs get taken

someplace safe.

Good boys and girls

behind bars.

 

Two bowls per day,

barking for change – 

a kind human with 

room in their heart.

 

But my mind is my cage,

frozen in the rat race. 

Called the shittiest names 

under the sun.

 

When will my human come, 

rescue me, take me in their arms,

fetch me a coffee

command me to ‘stand?’ 

Dormant heroes choose to walk by

cardboard citizens,

defying sub-zero.

Now it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie.

 

Photo by Andreea Popa on Unsplash