A Horse With No Name
Some were born to be show horses.
Pampered and fussed over to the extreme.
Accolades outperforming accomplishment
Living for tin-can applause.
Some are born thoroughbreds.
living for glory and the golden oats
blinders ablaze- racing through life
oblivious to the rattle of time...
Then there's the humble plow horse.
Overworked, underfed, underappreciated
Swaybacked from society's 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....
The plow horse will bury the stillborn in the fields
and crows will give it a name-
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