Society and the Outcasts

There's a group of scrappy, stray dogs
roaming the streets, alone and lost.
They're each unique, with different traits.
But society scorns them, they're the outcasts.
One has three legs and a crooked tail.
Another is big and fearsome-looking.
A tiny chiweenie with a loud voice.
And a shaggy mutt, always mistook
for a wolf or some kind of wild creature.
They band together, finding comfort
in each other's company, through the hunger
and pain of living, always in discomfort.
But they persevere, they have a spirit
that can't be broken. They're survivors.
They find food where they can, scraps and garbage
And drink from puddles, their thirst never quenched.
They watch as people walk by, ignoring
their presence, too afraid of disease,
and pitying their condition, never realizing
that these dogs are special, with personalities
that shine through their matted fur and dirty paws.
They have stories to tell, if only someone listened.
Their struggles and triumphs, their hopes and fears.
All hidden, beneath the surface, glistening.
And so they search, for a place to belong.
A home where they're loved, for who they are.
Not cast aside, or viewed as less than.
But welcomed, with open arms, near or far.
They are like us, uniquely special.
Navigating a world that doesn't always understand.
But they have something we often overlook.
The ability to love unconditionally, without demands.
We all could learn from these stray dogs
and cherish diversity, in all its forms.
Everyone has something to offer
and deserves to be seen, in the light they were born.