dead dog — a poem by me

I am walking down the middle of the street and I see a dead dog. 

The dog is laying off to the side, staining the grass near it with crimson blood. Its legs are fucked up and its mouth is bloody. As I get a better look at it, I can tell the poor creature is nothing but skin and bones. Its ribs are staring right at me through this dog’s thin body.

I’m not even paying attention to the cars and trucks driving past me. I honestly don’t give a shit if I get hit. At least it would be a quick way to go, hopefully. 

I sit down next to the dog. It doesn’t have a collar on it. Obviously a stray, or a severely neglected pet that escaped. Either way, I feel a strong connection to this dead animal. As fragile as it looks, it must’ve had a quick death. Minimal suffering, I hope. 

If I lived a life like that dog, starving and lost and alone, I’d want to die too. What’s the point in living if there’s nobody who cares? What’s the point in living if nobody’s going to come for you? I don’t understand living a pointless existence. 

I am then reminded of my own life. I’m reminded of how my existence is pointless. No friends, no lovers, no family of any sort. I hold this bloody, mangled dog close to me and remember that I am nothing and mean nothing. All the pain I’ve held in starts hitting me like a train. 

I look down at the dog, then at the cars speeding down the street. It would be so easy. I don’t have anything to lose, because I’ve never had anything to begin with. 

I scoop the dog into my arms and walk into the middle of the street. The dog doesn’t weigh much at all. It’s that frail.

A car speeds in my direction and doesn’t stop. The dog disintegrates in my arms and everything goes quiet. 

That dog was my first true friend.