Cowboys

I keep the cowards back,
But a restless soul I'll cut no slack.

I gnaw at them and keep them wary,
Never outside my ring will they marry.

So different are the few in my hand,
That no one else could possibly understand.

The blood and frustration,
Covered by mud and determination.

Broken bones, bruises and scrapes all will recover,
And then will they run back to their very first lover.

They'll drink and they'll boast,
And play poker to try to win the most.

Then it'll be time to go to the ring,
and, for eight seconds, be a king.