At the darkness of the night
The wind struck with a frost bite
The stars are numbered at the
As the land breeze touched the sea
A black dog stood beside the bin
Gaping wound in his heart, his love spills
Helpless, restless, tired he is.
Waiting for scraps from people passing
He is poorer than the poorest beggar
for he is incapable of asking alms.
His howls are mute, his frowns are misunderstood.
Sniffing is the only way to survive
The black dog is just like the artist’s mind
He is seeking trash at the middle of a cold summer night.
No, he is not seeking. He is desperately begging
for a little inspiration from Him above