Just one horse from just one carriage breaks his silence

The carriage I draw
it nis really mean
I am expected to be
a machine
whatever the weather
cold or hot
I am made to carry
and run a lot

the traffic, the scorching
summer where they
the tourists I mean
they fidget away
chortle and stand up
and give me such grief
honest let me say
death would be a relief

its a struggle each day
and a high price to pay
its sinew straining
each muscle paining
spasms all over
life far from clover
to try and maintain
my gait and in vain

cars all around me
exhaust fumes so smelly
my legs getting weaker
and feeling like jelly
tearing the heart out
of what is this soul
who genuinely otherwise
can have control

it does pain my feet
disempowering me fast
for each step that I manage
could be my last
in the mornings I awake
I remember the day
and how much I’d love
just to chew on some hay

just to stand in a field
with the sun in my soul
with the breeze in my mane
in complete control
of all of my faculties
just being me
not a rotten machine
That I’m expected to be

just today my old friend
collapsed and she died
she was tired she told me
but she had so much pride
she worked like the clappers
and they didn’t care
never a brush
or a shine on her hair
just poor food
and work
she worked till she dropped
this ugly behaviour
it has to be stopped

spca and PETa both do
Say they are helpful
But its not true
We need the public to give us a break
We need it fast
Why do they take
Everything from us
And don’t let us rest
Just stop this now
It really is best