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