The Life of a Dog

The choker around my neck might as well symbolize a collar.

Connected to a leash that holds be back.

I stare out of windows and whine about wanting to see the outside world.

I ask permission to step out even for a moment- only to be rejected from such freedoms, for someone else’s convenience.

My life consists of me being told what time I can do certain things and how to do them.

Left or right, up or down, now or never.

Not a list of opposites, but a list of the choices I am not allowed to make.

My body belongs to them.

My soul belongs to them.

My emotions and feelings mustn’t be this way or that way, but rather they must be feelings that please my owner- in order to feed their ego.

Round and round I chase my dreams as if they were my tail.

Only to be looked upon as a ditz who’s never gonna make it, and just doesn’t realize it yet.

Stuck in a constant cycle despite the fact I am stronger than them.

My scratch could easily hurt them; distract them long enough for me to make a run for it.

My bite could tear them apart in less than a few seconds.

But the leash made of loyalty and guilt is what tugs me back to my so called rightful place as someone’s bitch.


This poem is about: 
My family


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