Born Free (poetry)

Born free to run, free to roam
Happiness and glee all in one
Playful prances almost a dance
Proud spirits and beautiful souls
Run across the prairie, across the plateau
Until they are taken down too soon, too cold.
Helicopters on high, men without heart
Equipped with long-range rifles to do their part
Instructed by the BLM or their evil cohorts
Once to native tribes now to America’s horse.
Wild mustangs, noble, independent and free
Shot down, chased down or rounded up,
Pick the poison that is done for Satan’s will
All ways lead to destruction, lead to death,
Slaughter first or without shelter in winter freeze,
Little foals, little souls–just like our own babies.
How anyone can do that and go on all the same
Horribly twisted as if some unbelievably bizarre game.
I pity such a sad life without a glimpse of a soul
Yet I pity more the horse that has no choice
While all good men do nothing still
Evil can flourish and always will.