'On Misery' Poem by H.J. Shreeve

I find comfort in my misery,
Like the dog that refuses to sleep in it's box,
Despite the crunch of frost,
Despite the chill that licks it's face.

A connoissuer of sorrows,
I befriend the sick, the dying, the disturbed,
In the frost, I shiver in silent rage,

I am reminded of yesterday,
the scent of you exhausted the air around me,
It's not only the chill numbs my face.

As the sun rises,
the dog rises,
another night well spent,
I climb into my box,
Now I can sleep...