Chased To My Death
The brumby runs with ease.
I can’t stop running with the danger do near he thinks.
He runs through a river but can’t stop to drink,
I must keep running,
but what is it that I’m running from?
Is it a predator?
No it wouldn’t be making this much noise.
Is it another stallion?
No he would off faced me not tried to sneak up on me.
So what am I running from?
I can smell something as I run through the familiar cannons.
This smell is un-natural,
It reeks and burns my nostrils.
As I round the corner something wraps around my neck.
Then something else finds it way around my neck.
But I never miss a beat,
I thunder on.
Then something blocks my exit,
The next thing I see is the dirt ground.
My body slams to the ground.
Then there were ropes around my feet, muzzle, neck,
I can see horses.
These horses were different.
They had rope around there muzzles and up around their ears,
There were objects on their backs,
That were tied around their bellies.
Then I saw what had chased me.
It was mankind,
And he had chased me to my death.
Me, the last brumby.
Comments about this poem (Chased To My Death by M.J. Henderson )
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