Side Streets

A mangled mutt limps through the shadows,

Towards the trash can on 21st of main,

Staring out the window a poodle yaps,

With big shiny eyes the mutt looks up,

Staring at the fluffy thing,

With a warm light glazing the image,

And he wonders why he wasn't choosen,

To be loved,

To be one that no matter who you are you smile and say,

"Oh your dog is cute,"

But no,

Instead he is kicked,

Beaten,

Hated,

And looked at as a speckle of dirt,

What he wouldn't give to be the one in the window,

Yet,

Would that mean he would be looking down,

At another version,

Of,

Him?