well, when i was little i did want to own horses

my thoughts are a poem,
but i run into trouble whenever
i try to corral them on paper because
they like to twist away and run in
circles, like wild horses,
making me dizzy and
not making sense.
i keep trying, and sometimes
i wind up with a success story
like all those famous horse novels,
and other times
i wind up breathless and covered in dust,
empty-handed.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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