Post Traumatic Equine Disorder
You should be
Strolling fields of wildflowers.
Munching heavenly grasses.
Sun polishing your satin flanks.
Sipping from a lily-kissed pond.
Running the hills-full throttle.
Necking with a favorite mare friend...
Tails twitching merrily in the wind.
Instead,
you're prodded into a war zone.
Bricks and rocks smacking ribs.
Ears rattling from bullhorns-sirens-egos.
Shattering glass -
Shaking tear gas.
Half-blinding your wild brown eyes.
You try reasoning out the scene
of these crazy-crazy human beings.
After the carnage- it's back to the stalls.
For all your blood sacrifice and burning eyes
you're given half-rotted, bloody New York apples.
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