Who claimed to be my soul keeper
He kept me safe and predicted things
He constantly mutters prejudices to me.
He loved to hang his head out of my sternum
Coz he wanted to keep himself busy
The little canine started with an itch problem
And started scratching with hind legs..
He tore my flesh in the process
But never did I feel the pain. ..
For he was numbing the wound
With unfathomable licks of self pity!
Now the dog had no time left
To go mind the worldly business.
But to sit and guard the wounds
So no one else can take notice.
The bullie looked up at the sky
Hanging in from inside my chest
The dog was like a joey
but the pouch was my heart sac
He sat there licking the old purulent wounds
And belching over nostalgic memoirs.
The wounds were gradually caving in...
Engulping my shoulders and aiming my head
And the little bull dog hung there drooling
Whining at the wound, the pain and the world
Muttering to my ears that its all my fault
And constantly putting salt on the wound
One fine morning when I took a deep breath
The room flooded with silence
I saw the bull dog sleeping
His head resting on the ribs
I lifted my hand and patted his scabbed head
His weary eyes opened and he was wimpering
I assured him, My sweet little ego,
Its time to let go!
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