My Moral Mistake

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It’s hard for me to swallow that it wasn’t even two years ago I rode at a stable that flourished on horse cruelty. Not the type that police can get involved in, because the neighbors witnessed starving horses or horses getting beaten with a bat. No, not even the type that people barely care about.

The type that left the decisive part of my brain paralyzed,
Because we are all slaves to morality and pleasure
And only one can win…

November of grade six,
I sit happily on a schooling pony
But happiness is bliss, and so is ignorance
Because that cute schooling pony with the bows in her mane,
And fluffy hair,
And cartoon-lookin’ tail…

She wasn’t walking on clouds,
Because to walk on clouds you must be outside,
And this cute schooling pony never sees the sunlight

Now it’s summer, before seventh grade
I trot gleefully on a lazy gelding,
But this horse isn’t trotting on laziness,
He’s trotting on laminitis
Because my trainers didn’t want to lose money

And it’s at this point I begin to question things,
But I didn’t want to lose my riding,
So I ignore it for a while

And next it’s fall and I canter gracefully to a thoroughbred mare,
But she’s not behaving because she loves her job
She’s behaving because it’s this,
Or going back to her prison, I mean stall,
I mean prison, where she
Sways her neck to nothing
Like one of those mental patients who can’t go outside…
But that’s what she is….

Time skip to winter and I’ve now learned
But my morality and my pleasure hang in my mind
Like the weight of the angel and the devil who sit on your shoulders
And the devil I gave in to

And I scream at myself, asking why I gave in
Why did I listen to my trainer, and
Rip the quarter horse’s mouth open with the 3-ring elevator?
I was a coward

Why did I rip the next mare’s mouth open with the twisted bit?
The mare who reminded me so much of the chestnut pony I miss the most,
The pony who belongs to the trainer I miss the most,
The trainer who always taught me:
BE GENTLE

But that twisted bit leads to
A double twisted bit
And I still listen

And then that double twisted bit leads to
A chainsaw bit,
Which is just as bad as it sounds,
And although I wasn’t happy,
I also wouldn’t stop, because
I. STILL. LISTENED.

What was wrong with me?






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