Fear Is Not Always Real

clip-clop, clip-clop, clip-clop

Running towards the first money barrel

The sound of the horse’s hooves don’t stop 

Turn the barrel, hit the gravel


Reminiscing the first time I ever rode a horse

Turtle was his name

My fear arose

Even though he was supposedly tamed


As time progressed, my fear recessed

Barrel racing became my calling

For doing what I love, I felt blessed

As I felt myself evolving


Riding taught me that what I fear, is not always real

To this truth, I owe to much

This poem is about: 


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