I am but a creature of man’s creation
Born out of man’s desire for loyal companionship
Yet here I sit
On the cold, wet, unforgiving ground
Alone
Away from the affection of
A warm smile
A gentle touch
A safe home
A forsaken wanderer whose ribcage bears the brand of a hungry beast
But food lost its appeal
Long ago
What remains is the bony, begging soul
Of your ragged, ravaged, long forgotten creation
Awaiting his Master in a garden of discarded desire
