A Horse With No Name

Some were born to be show horses pampered and highly fussed over little work but many accolades living for tin canned applause.. Some are born thoroughbreds. living for glory and golden oats blinders ablaze- racing through life oblivious to the rattle of time... Then there's the humble plow horse overworked and underpaid. Swaybacked from societies harsh gaze smoothing the way for both sashay and racer forever looked down upon-never any applause bending over for the ones that will eventually eat them.... Lastly, the stillborn legs curled around coldness never given the chance to glitter-thunder about or hoe the plow horse will take the stillborn to the fields and crows will give them their name-