Freedom, majesty
All lost in the tragedy.
Lost in the chutes,
as the gun shoots
yet doesn't kill.
The blood spills,
and money goes into the till.

Struggling to stay
in the day.
Feeling dead,
with a feeling of dread.
They watch each other die,
still they don't cry,
they can't do anything to defy
or deny
this death.

Packed together,
surrendered
to this fate
of ending up on a foreign plate.

The stench of blood,
the filthy mud.
Hungry, thirsty, tired,
scared, hurt, and wired.
Too short of time
to realize their crime
of being too old, too ugly,
too short, too tall, too fugly,
too useless, too fat,
and unable to jump that.

Too dangerous,
too much,
not good enough,
couldn't sell,
the child fell.
The highest bidder,
was the winner.
Too lame to ride;
It's equine genocide.
The seller lied,
we really tried.
All these reasons
are nothing but treason
against the graceful beast
just for some feast.

There goes the gate,
sealed is their fate.
The equine,
an animal divine.

Slam the door,
of that double deckered truck.
They don't give a fuck.

No food, no water, no rest.
Strength is put to the test,
as the leaders try to prove they're the best.
The kicks, the bites,
spats, and fights.
Shoved together with a roof too low,
beaten if they go too slow.
Injuries untreated,
spirits defeated,
wishing to be treated with respect.
For if they must die,
their life denied,
they deserve to be slain
without the pain.