Sorrow

Part of you knows that
You are the black dog,
Since you don’t fear it.

You would, if it came
Running straight at you,
As it does at some.

You don’t fear it since
It’s not near, and you
Have enough to fear.

You’ve loved and lived with
People left hounded
By it, some to death.

Death itself keeps you
Interested, python
Slowly squeezing you.

Death’s not the black dog,
Though, not Moddey Dhoo.
You think back on those

You loved that it chased,
Glowing eyes, long nights.
Was some of that you?