Stallion

Hooves slam the concrete ground,
dust clouds sweep the oxygen off it’s feet,
and as the spirits stare into blank white skies,
I’m like a child under some blank white sheets,
“boo” my child goes,
Families of horses make one hell of a stampede.
That man’s sitting on the sidewalk holding wooden signs,
it says, “will work for money,”
and the horse holds a sign back that says, “I’m too scared.”
Will he shoot me down?
Or will he sing grace.
As a stallion, I’m destined to find out.

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