Heard the master shouting,
felt him pull the reins.
I galloped, galloped, and galloped,
with wrists in pain.
I starved for a pat,
and starved for the grain.
Twisted, faster, better—
all strain in the vein.
One day, I broke the tether,
and galloped in the rain.
No reins, no master—
yet I feared the wild again.
I slowed before the morning,
unsure of any aim.
They found me where I started,
and led me back unchanged.
I was leashed before daylight,
the reins felt just the same.
I galloped, galloped, and galloped—
freedom was never the game.
© Amit Choudhary, 2010 (Post 9P)