Pack of Dogs
Chained
And trained
For years
Feed rancid meat
No thoughts of defeat
Hit with sticks
And a boot up the ass
Starved of culture
Indoctrinated
Into a baying
Pack of dogs
Ugly scared faces
That blank
And black stare
Any sign of emotion
Instant demotion
Set upon
By his own
Pack of dogs
They go by
Sobriquets
Such as
Blacks regret
Death on legs
Dripping jowls
Harbinger of death
Big
Short
Scarred
And tattooed
But all tarred
With that brush
For dogs
And when it’s all over
All the wars are spent
Their waved goodbye
At the kennel fence
Let loose
Into normal
What’s he to make?
His loved one’s
At a lose
His B#tch cries
Battered and bruised
His pups shy away
And he
Pines for his pack
As he reaches
For the brown bag bottle
That needle
On the ground
As that’s all that keeps
Those howling demons at bay
And those faces he slayed
All there to remind him
Of his pack of dogs
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