There was this dog I grew up with
I fed it bread and fed it meat
I bathed it and played with it
I made it stand and made it sit
But my friends still never liked it
It would bark and growl at them
It would stand still and firm
I would stare it in the eyes
And tell it to be nice
The day my dog died
I was the only one who cried
My friends celebrated its death
Happy it took its last breath
My dog treated family nice
But made strangers scared
And now it pays the price
For they rejoice that it is dead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem