The Old Black Dog

by Paul Hirst   Apr 28, 2019


The Old Black Dog is back once more whining and scratching at my door
His fetid teeth want to rip and gnaw purpose and happiness abound no more

Cloying black fur envelopes me to try to fight is futility as rank slavering jaws snap about my head I sink lower into my bed

His barking doubts drown out my thoughts shuddering whimpers in both our throats as his blackness chases the light away I beg tomorrow he's gone to stay

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Latest Comments

  • 1 year ago

    by Milly Hayward

    A great metaphor for depression. Sending you a warm hug Milly x

    • 1 year ago

      by Paul Hirst

      Milly Your Sweet x
      Hugs back and I'm fine now

  • 1 year ago

    by Ben Pickard

    Great stuff, Paul. As you probably know, I do like a rhyming poem! Well done and all the best,
    Ben