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Ballad Of a Warhorse MAG
The Earth sparkles in crimson
Not 'cause its bejeweled with rubies
Its the blood of innocents
Because a war has come to seize
He was born to be free
Ruling the golden grasslands
His spirit was the harmony
In the music of woodlands
He had a vivid shiny mane
Magestic as the colours of dawn
He would grace the wind
As he galloped in the early morn
Now that sheen has been replaced
With the aggressing colours of misery
He wasn't a carefree happy midnight horse
He was the charcoal horse of royalty
His stable master always said
"You are good, so you are chosen
It's an honour for you to have
That you, by the king be taken."
But what sin is being good?
He would think and flashback to
The meadows where his mother
Told him of horses like him too!
"Remember dearest," she would say
"Our pride lies in our goodness for
The heart's an arrow and you the bow
Aim true and bloom like a flore."
Now, he ran through
The simmering lava of hatred
With his master on his back
Killing his kind as he prayed
Prayed to be freed again
To dauntlessly chase the doves
To lie down on the cool grass
And greet the shimmering stars
He had aimed to be good
A brave, intelligent proud horse
What wrong had he done
To be a part of this blood-shed so worse
He had been happy when
The royals had taken him away
He was to be the king's horse
He had bounced and neighed all the way
If only he had known
The castle would be his shackles
But now it was too late
He had already bruised his knuckles
One by one he saw
As all his mates fell
He couldn't even give them a glance
Only a silent farewell
What do you gain?
He questioned the king
Why aren't you happy
With your own cozy living?
He too joined his mates
As an arrow found its mark
He saw the king push him away
As, with a scowl he embarked
You have never known satisfaction
He said as his soul swept away
You have wanted too much
And never wanted to share away
Death had it's own life
He thought as he heard
His mates calling out to him
To the paradise as he emerged
When he would look down
Upon the blood-smeared world
He would just pity them 'cause
Harmony won't be their's to be earned.
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This is a poem on the negativity of a war from the perspective of a war horse. It tries to express how a horse feels when it sees all the blood, death, the dead horses in the battlefield.