Mangy Bulldog

All were hunched in fear as we looked and saw

Our eyes glued to the pixels counting down

The end. My father’s face began to sink,

My mother hid in the next room and prayed

For hope as the minutes stretched to hours,

The hours to days.

 

As for me, I loved it. I saw the men

And women on the stage,

Their hairspray and suits and glitter dresses

All screaming for my attention.

It was like glam rock. I ate it up.

But by morning the shock came to haunt me.

 

My mom lost sixty million friends that night.

I gained a bit of bitterness myself,

Got the idea in my head that the World

Is always out for you, your head,

And the things that you care about.

The only way to live is to bite your lip

And keep walking through this “familiar” world

Where a mangy bulldog is the idol

And affection of so many people.

 

By the end of that night, I would care a

Little less about the world, about how

People looked at me and I looked at them.

Now I smile and wave, nothing to it.

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My country
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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