a special hound

find the slightest issue
sniff a whiff of wrong
and hit that trail as a hound
blood in the eyes
mind the simplest kind of machine
one purpose: rectify

well one day this hound 
caught a scent
and the fire of hunt 
flipped on too hard 
and burned his world away

so quickly, so completely
that the frenzy of kill was gone
his master’s voice was gone
and he saw the cool swimming pond
at the end of the other trail
and began to trot away