The Hunt
Deep inside the blood was spilled
All the beasts around get enthrilled
Their hunger for blood is strong
Although insanely wrong
An innocent fawn gets shot
A lonesome hunter makes the kill
For him it is just a thrill
But for the beasts around it is instinct
When the hunter sees them his hearts sinks
They swiftly approach the man
And the man makes his stand
But the man does not move
He simply smiles
And all the while
The squirrels come near
To explore what they fear
Copyright © Matthan Atherton | Year Posted 2009
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