The Howling Dog
I just can't think,
Or write,
Or eat,
Or sleep.
No longer fight,
To breathe,
Or cry,
And weep.
All that I own,
Believe in,
Worked for,
Has died.
Annihilating,
My morals,
Trust,
And faith inside.
This has very little to do with cost,
A couple of dollars is the least I've lost,
Their piggy banks haven't been bust,
What hurts me more is a loss of trust,
By those who'd rather believe.
I've become a completely empty shell,
Soul been dragged through the depths of hell,
Burning up with fear and pain inside,
With the blackest hound at my side,
Howling to let him back in.
(c) 2016 PJ Bayliss
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