A dog's crime.

Crime is a deed done by the bad

So why is the dog all muzzled up?

He acted out, who hasn't? Why is it the dog that's getting shouted?

In the courtroom, waiting for it's fate, it prays to God for solace, not a look of shame.

The judge slams the gavel on the block,

"Order!" they announce, "order in the court!"

The room goes quiet, each face is pale

for no one dares a sound to tell, not even a cricket chirps or trills

"You, mutt, have done deeds immoral and too bad"

"But I only shouted! I only frowned, rolled my eyes, spoke up, for my owners hands corrupted way too much" the dog replies in a brittle, croaky tone.

"He used, abused, teared and false-fed all those minds, mine in count. So, I the harmed, beaten, lied can't stand up to my ground?"

"You disobeyed. You killed, you harmed and yet you kneel, kneel for forgiveness, sanctuary and our trust. Nonetheless, you forced the man's hand! You dared not suit your role! You altered all that was destined to shape you. You chose a path that wasn't destined or invented. You drew your own line on the board, no permission, no resentment, and dare think you deserve a saviour? You didn't listen. You didn't follow through. You think you chose "what's best for you?", well what's best for you is the mold which was sculpted by our God, the one and only Lord!"

"Our Lord speaks of freedom and of peace. To fight the norm, to feel at ease. This God you speak for isn't mine, for my God vouches for mindedness and life. Life with liberty, life well-lived, so why do I have to bear the violence he brought on me?"

"That all is false, illusions sung by the Devil in his lair. Our ruled you'll follow, willingly and blindly. The herd needs a Cyclops to be fed, not a nobody."

The dog thinks of it's fate, 30, 50 yeara? A life is what's awaiting. Albeit after Death, in heaven where he'll wake, his muzzle will still attach forcefully on it's jaws.

Restraining, controlling, not a word more to be sung.

For life after death exists though he'll still remain undone.

The inevitable act of speaking up, acting in defense, has always been a sin to those who fear their sins themselves.

They lie and torture, use and kill, everything around.

For redemption they would burn their child, then reverse and start again.

This circle is infinite, it's been going for so long.

They want to save their carcasses, for they got an image to keep on.

Their own self-righteousness is numb.

It kills with every beat.

Their heart is fear, their blood is pride, their bones are weak and frail and thin.