Poem: Dog

He was called Dog.
That was his name.
You see I said was.
Today that changed.

His number was called,
his time was up.
He licked her hand.
(He was only a pup.)

She held his paw,
and poisoned his vein.
She was good at her job.
He felt no pain.

His dark eyes closed,
he uttered a whine.
His body fell still.
He'd reached his time.

He was called Dog.
That was his name.
Left at the pound,
he ran out of days.





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