1/3/2026 for Any 2026 Poem Poetry Contest
I speak from the ear of a mangy dog, in the shadows, through the fog, But, does Fido ever obey? He doesn't heed a word I say of my unending monologue. Perhaps, he has gone deaf, I fear, and he cannot even hear, for he doesn't fetch or sit, or follow commands one bit as the day piles on week on year. I don't know that I'll ever be free from profound feelings of futility, and I don't know how this will end. They say dogs are man's best friend, but never was it true for a flea.
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