Life of a Scarecrow

It’s too cumbersome to carry my life wrapped in a cheap garment, nonetheless, it’s an embarrassing situation for me to take the garment off and toss it away because I have no well-built body to show off but a poorly shaped stature. And that’s why I am wearing this garment against my will, still worse, it’s my only garment. As such, although I cannot change my garment as each season changes with its unique color I have an advantage over the young girls who walk on the street vigorously but have trouble selecting one favorite from many designers’ dresses. Mannequins attract the girls’ attention from the seasonally changing show window. Since I have no extra clothes to change, the garment I am wearing has an ill-appearance because it went through all kinds of weather imaginable, it’s worn and torn like a rag, the color has faded, but, darn it! What can I do? It’s my life. As eventide surges into my life’s trail, every stray dog passing by would urinate laying against my leg raising its hind leg to draw a territorial map of its own dog-man* autocratic domain, yet, I have to accept it as a fact without a word spoken. Now, I understand why I have only one garment. I am a straw filled scarecrow. NOTE: *Used as dual meaning: a country ruled by dogs and, the dog-like men rule barking at each other to keep power.