Saddled With Syria

I opened up the barn door and the stallion dashed outside.
“That’s it!” I bellowed sternly, “No more hay will I provide.”
And yet the horse did not return, despite my fierce incentive.
The outcome here: predictable – yet I was inattentive.

Then everyone got mad, as if the consequence was my fault,
When I took steps to remedy by issuing a cry – “Halt!”
But once that horse took off, what little clout I had was waning,
So I just shrugged my shoulders and got right back to campaigning.

Oh, sure – I made some noise regarding punishment potential,
But truly I had squandered my dominion presidential.
Besides, that horse was someone else’s property, so therefore
It wasn’t ever my responsibility to care for.

A horse is just an animal; a man serves as the master,
And once no longer useful, it will be put out to pasture.
Regarding my decision I will not take any more heat,
Dispensing with my critics – grinding each one up like horse meat.

It’s not even my barn from which this bronco was escaping.
As I recount the story, seems the narrative’s reshaping.
So let’s damn the torpedoes and we’ll set a full-ahead course,
As I attempt to frantically reanimate a dead horse.

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