How to live unbridled

The sun is hot. The earth is parched and cracked and thirsty for rain. My masters have been harsh and unrelenting. They have forced me to pull a heavy plow through the cracked and dried earth. I am tired and weary from the workload that has been placed on my shoulders. Day after day the heavy yoke and harness has been strapped on. The bridle, with its blinders, has been slipped over my head and cinched into place. I cannot see my surroundings. Only the hardened earth at my feet.

The harness seems to get heavier each passing day. What makes it even heavier is the harsh criticism from my masters. "C'mon, clod-foot, pick up your feet! Let's move it!". With each chiding command, a strap from my harness strikes me on my back over and over. Somehow, my back never toughens under the strap-slapping blows. Sometimes my inner being cries from the blows to my furry equine skin.