Bedlam in Burbia

The fireflies were still out
just before sunrise
should have known something was wrong
When even the morning doves didn’t sing their song

The morbid popping sounds in the distance
Of left over pyrotechnic disturbance
hackneyed excitement turned excrement
floating down to the square miswatered lawns
That finds itself firmly uneducating
the late July sky

Never before has black gun powder
Ever unleashed a sound scarier
As my brow scrunched and my head cocked
I stepped out of the shower
went and peeked out my door unlocked

To my horror I stood by shell-shocked
As my eyes blurred and my jaw dropped
a harbinger of slashing fierce pit bull terrier
mercilessly shredding a young child by instinct behavior

As my shower towel fell
that moment when sonic sound stands still
Seems the newly purchased “Lord Byron”
is not what he seems,
Resonating residential urban echoing screams

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