A feral mare.
Days and months and years of running free. Warm sunshine beating against my back. Gentle breezes billowing through my mane. Frolicking through vast, open spaces; splashing through bubbling brooks of deliciously pure, sweet water. Nuzzling my closest companions. Sleeping beneath a star-studded, glimmering canvas of black.
Caged.
Trapped by a stranger. Torn from all I've ever known. Severed from my home, my family, my safety.
Ensnared by a circle of brick. Running frantically, terrified. Kicking, thrashing against the immovable wall. Cut, bleeding, frenzied.
Tied. Chained to the hand of the stranger in the center of the ring.
Tiring with each successive lap around the ring. The lead tightening with each circle. Pulled closer and closer to the monster in the middle.
Exhausted. Broken. Slowing.
Surrender.
Hosea 2:6 "Therefore, behold, I will hedge up your way with thorns, And wall her in, So that she cannot find her paths."
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