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Carthorse

You use me
And when I'm sick
You starve me.
And are quick
To chastise me.

You work me
And when I need a break
You question me.
And ask how long I'll take
To rest me.

You exhaust me
And when work I refuse
You ignore me.
And the money I lose
Will break me.

You pay me
The little that's left
From your luxury.
And your life reflects
My poverty.