Typically discarded
To keep the bloodline racing
Via surrogate milk
To bottle fuel the thoroughbreds,
The ones that win, or promise to
Wear the roses, get
Another day in hell
While the less uniquely
Competitive are
Disqualified from life
Or the part that's game at least
But the dream is all that matters,
The beating heart that keeps
All the mothers lactating
Systematically,
The system that he
Rules the world with,
The only one he
Understands.
He owns it all, all of it,
It's his dream that only matters
When he notices the foal and says
"You're saved,"
The gentlest horse,
Who has everything to give,
So much gratitude to be alive,
So much try
Given that second chance,
The one that plutocrats always
Love to give, it's their law,
To have the horse of the year,
Or anything their dream
Leads them near, but only when
The one thing they can see
Is a flag.
