-to all the racehorses brutally murdered in slaughterhouses
A Life in circles, A Life in loops.
on the 8th, The Sport of Kings, now realised an illusion of class.
The bearer of dismay, the unassuming float.
Greets the cold steel gates of Hades’s boat.
The three at the gate, inadmissible?
Whips, and blows throughout the ferry.
I miss my old life very.
The bustle of machinery and the ooze of blood aggravate our fears.
The glorious trophies of my brothers lay corroded and defeated.
Our triumphant tanks, No match for the son of Nyx.
A thousand shouts and not a shed of tears.
A volley of blows alienates my loyal footing.
cracked bones and tendons disfigure my pistons.
Hung upside down, my heart at my ears I hear the others neigh in protest.
7 years in a loop.
7 years with a partner.
7 years of love and care.
7 years rendered a betrayal and no more.
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