To the long howling bark
Of my landlord's dog.
Is it her unanimous pledge
To the distant cry of others
Of her kind? or,
Tonight, like every other,
They're celebrating the
Delusion of dead humans?
Sometimes, I like to fancy this,
As a battle cry for an attack
To overthrow our subjugation.
But then out of sheer loathe
Towards this bitch downstairs,
I would like to think of her-
As a petty snitch.
Who has been sent here to
Spy upon us.
To the lure of food and
Shelter.. or her own
Stockholm syndrome.
She seems to have betrayed
Her tribe. To howl now,
At this hour; for a display of-
Her fake allegiance to
Her lost comrades, who,
Hopelessly wait for her cues,
For a coup.