Bambi’s Revenge
The hunter laughed, his rifle bright,
his boots like thunder in the night--
but deep within the twisted trees,
something stirred among the leaves.
Not a whisper, not a sound,
just breath like smoke along the ground.
A shadow moved--too fast, too wrong,
its eyes like embers burning strong.
"You took her life, now you will see--"
"the price of blood belongs to me."
The hunter turned, his hands went slack,
as antlers rose--tall, sharp, black.
Not bone, not wood, but something old,
a hunger carved in silent gold.
The forest wept, the branches swayed,
as Bambi stalked his helpless prey--
no longer soft, no longer mild,
but wrath reborn in Nature’s child.
A scream, a shot--too late, too late--
the hunter met his mother’s fate.
And when the dawn bled through the trees,
his skull lay tangled in the leaves.
Bambi watched with hollowed grace,
the morning light upon his face.
"No more hunters. No more pain."
"This is my forest. I remain."
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