It’s almost like it’s not even charity
I stop by once or twice a week to do something trivial
They thank me as though I were some awesome guy
Someone you can put your trust in

I walk dogs. Sometimes they even walk me
My inner demons sometimes even have that same courtesy
Sometimes I feel as though I might start to melt
I wish I could be that person that people talk about when they talk about me

In the same moment I can tie myself to the ground but still be able to fly

Whenever a dog finds something dead it rolls over and rubs its back on the grass
Defiantly waving his dick at the sky
It’s as though he’s the one that did it
I found a turtle that had been hit by a lawnmower

Holy fuck. I once contemplated offering to cut their grass
Earlier that day I was panicking over the nature of forgiveness
I often feel like I need to vomit as though it may cleanse me
The dog celebrated its victory then went back to its cage

They hate to go in their cages. I think it has to do with self-respect

What if I got on my knees and demanded exoneration?
Or I had a worthwhile conversation with someone
Living as though pride came instead of the fall
Even though I know death comes unexpectedly I still don’t seem to care

If only I knew what to do when the opportunity arose