Enigmatic Perspective
Amongst the treetops a falcon finds its prey
Swooping down talons open to grasps it
Only to let it drop so it’s bones will shatter
Questions have arisen in the coming days
Am I in the talons or am I the falcon hunting
A gunshot is heard with a burst of feathers
I am the bullet ceasing the existence of fables
My words are the rifle in which they will fall
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