You know that you mr. black have black inside you, through
and through. Your heart is the blackest part of you. Smiling at what you see
before you, as if it were good. Grinning with a smile that goes from ear to
ear, I can see it in your eyes that you are please with your evil ringed cages
of death, while you wait for the fighters to arrive. Fighters, that don’t want
to fight and you tip your hat at the men that walk them in. I wish that I could
reverse the roles and walk you into the fighting ring, which I am sure you
would not want to fight in.
How funny would it be to see a dog sitting there taking bets
on which human male would be victorious, while other dogs bark, “Kill him and
rip him apart!” Once you lose that fight and you will, because only cowards
fight and abuse creatures that rely on them. While you lay there, life leaving
your body, your black soul falls away from your earthly body. The dogs bark with glee, they can see your
dying body, they can see you trying to beg for mercy and they look at you with
their sad doggy eyes and laugh.
The smell of death floats through the room, while the
blackness vanishes into the walls and allows the light to trickle back into the
room. The dogs normally saddened by death, rejoice in yours. Grins across their
faces because they are freed from the small dark cages, freed from being forced
to fight, freed from starvation, freed
from being your dogs of death, and freed from being your “pets.” I don’t want
to imagine a dog being full of black, like you once were. If there were I‘d
hope him to be yours, yours so he could make you pay, as I thought those dogs
did on that imaginary day.
I can imagine it all like a movie on my television playing
in my head, making the terrorist of the dogs become the victim of those dogs
that were tortured and terrorized. mr. black you deserve to be attacked, for
only in bad dreams could a dog ever have a heart that was black.
