The day I was picked,
Bought by a man and his son owned a farmland.
The junior master and I played,
Forced to learn to glow the land.
Became a war horse after the military came,
Met with a British solider.
Carried him on the filed even being lame,
He was my second master.
Floated to a farmstead,
There was an elder and his granddaughter.
The windmill was dead,
Broke into a robbery fire.
Kept marching forward,
Turned myself as part of the Gremany.
I felt like a feather in the world,
No where I belonged, no places any.
Floating around and never stop,
Anticipated forward with all my hope.
Statement: This poem is a ballad, and it is about the war horse Zoey who is always being chosen in the filed with different masters. It isn’t just about the loyalty. Itis about the cruelty of the wars.
