WAR HORSE

A THOUGHT ON THE COOPERATE WORLD.

Charging to the glory of another;
Spurred towards grim sounds and slaughter;
As its boss did dine with laughter,
It finds it bears not a brother!

Hotter got the breath of the desert;
Its nose was near to the bright sands;
As smokes of dust soared the stirred lands,
It could not help an equine fart.

Stumble did those hooves once so sturdy;
The bearer turned to a burden!
Left was he on hot grains golden;
Gone was the fuel in its body.