A Greyhound's Story

I was born to be this.

I was raised to be this.

I was made to be this.

Day, after day, after day,

The tortuous death defying training.

Impossible to get away,

The cold evil metal chains straining.

Trapped, like a lamb awaiting slaughter.

Beaten, like a prisoner to be taught a lesson.

Surrounded by my own blood splatter.

My cage in the dark, never lucent.

BANG! Run, run, run.

Faster than a fighting jet

Like a bullet from a gun.

My heart beating out of my chest.

Menacing cheers rising from the crowd.

I move faster the wind piercing my face.

I must make my owner proud.

I need to win, I need to place.

To my right a flickering shadow coming for me;

I speed up trying to get away, to escape,

From the harshness that awaits if I don’t flee,

From the many more scars that will shape.

Fatigue washes over my body,

A necklace of sweat formed.

I fall back the shadows making me bloody

I get beaten and whipped and in turn deformed

I was forced to be this.

I never wanted to be this.

I wasn’t born to be this.