When canines roamed the ancient street,
They lived refused and shut in jars,
No trinkets chained their legs — so sweet
Was life and not constrained by bars.

Though struggle was their lot content,
They would deface the currencies
Of lesser worth, and not relent
In doggèd chase of liberties.

Yet now they’re gone, their flame was snuffed,
Amid neurotic social norms;
And this prophetic sage rebuffed
Will die in charitied reforms.

The normal person always lies
Unto themselves until it dies.