Ranch

By A Rusted Cog

Lying on hay

Small and light

Wet from birth

Dazed by light

Bars and walls surround,

Around our little world.

Nameless faces come around,

And watch our little herd.

Then taken from

 our little home.

Carted off

To worlds unknown.

Yet we walk in lines

And pace together.

Follow a journey

With great displeasure.

Yet not one falters.

No need to escape.

While strange and unknown,

This path is shaped. 

Given fresh food

And time to rest.

Kept in good health

If we stay suppressed.

I look out 

On fields outside.

Of a world free,

Not burdened or tied.

So I run, and emerge,

And I escape my little world.

To fields of tall grass,

And ponds of swaying reeds

But I am alone,

without my little herd.

Unfed and unrested,

My dream, now blurred.

Not held back by walls

Or burdened by bars,

Yet lonely and hungry

Under bright stars.

So I wish to go back

To that world so strange.

To have all I could need,

With only freedom to pay.