December 7, 2011
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You don't know what it's like to be me.
When I speak, no one understands what I say.
Laying on the cold hard ground every day is uncomfortable.
If I'm lucky, sometimes the people who passes by will give me a snack.
I ask for help, but all they do is give a sympathetic look and walk away.
Why won't anyone help me?
The deep wounds on my body is getting more gross each day.
I want a shower, but not from the pouring rain.
Snow is fun to play in, but not fun to live in.
I lay down and wait.
I'm growing weaker as each day passes.
That special someone will come and rescue me in this place called h***.
Months passes by and my hope slowly fades...
Today feels different.
I can't move, my eyes are slowly closing.
I feel someone carrying me,
It's not cold anymore...
What is this? Warmth?
Someone is stroking my hair. No one has done that in a long time.
I open my eyes and I see bars in front of me with people looking inside.
I hear the words "You'll be coming to your new home soon."
I wag my tail in happiness and I lay down on the warm blanket to take a nap.

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