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About This Poem
the hunt
I watch as you draw nigh,
slowly counting paces,
slowly drawing back,
I count the steps as my heart races,
to bring you down, with one straight shot,
my arm draws back, and muscles tense
sweat drips down my brow
cunning, quick, I cannot miss
any closer and you'll see me
I've got to take the shot if I'm to do this
with memories and guidance of my father
and his before him... I let loose my weapon..
"WHACK" I GOT HIM!
a direct hit...
Now to sanitize my desk,
for once again I've killed another pesky fly...
Flies 0 Michael 7
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