The Pet [Poetry]

Deep in the cavernous recesses of hell the cackles of demons talk.

“His Pet” they say, demanding a name and impressing their will. 

Chained by guilt and torture, the man obliges watching another piece of his heart fall into the fire. 

Like nefarious whispers, they fill and consume his mind. 

But a pet is loyal and strong. A pet is comforting and faithful, even when the Master has nothing to give. 

The first rays of dawn slice through the pits of hell, ceasing the venomous nature of the demons’ cries. 

With solid, thunderous footsteps that echo against the pit of despair, The True Pet emerges.

One of selflessness and honor. One of honesty and integrity. 

Throwing it’s head back, a fierce howl rips through the night like a trumpet that awakens the broken Master. 

With a clang, the bondages are severed and the man stumbles forward. 

He looks upon His Pet with eyes of deep remorse. 

Her fur is singed from walking through hell. Deep cuts ooze where the demons attacked her being. 

But still she stands in service, ever faithful, waiting to be reclaimed. 

A tear drips from the man’s eye as he touches her battered body. “Let’s go home, My Pet”, he whispers, finally understanding the true weight of the title, one that was earned, “let’s go home”.  



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