The Black Dog and the Trash

At the darkness of the night

The wind struck with a frost bite

The stars are numbered at the 

black sky

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


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