Little Colt

I hate when love is like trying to feed,

horses carrots;

Or apples,

we all assume,

this is what “they must love”

Yet when your hand meets their


And they bluster about

that carrot;

a rejected gift  I’d have  eaten’

“please don’t waste what I give to you”


Now whats left is a slew of thefts not even nibbled.

Some peoples breakfasts is other peoples snot.

and Vice verse -a


Even a child should understand;

We are not all raised the same from birth;

Though some try to hand feed;

I’d rather have my little colt

nibble it from the earth…




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