The dog at the end

There’s a dog that sits on the end of my street—

he barks at anyone that nears,

snarling teeth that glow shiny in the afternoon light. 

There’s a dog that sits on the end of my street—

his eyes glow red;

rage covering the love he once had. 

There’s a dog that sits on the end of my street— 

bound by the chain that digs deep into his neck, 

leaving marks so shiny and red. 

There’s a dog that sits on the end of my street—

his eyes glow red, his mouth foams;

while his heart silently begs for forgiveness.