The Huntress
Biding her time, stalking her prey;
Knowing that far he can not stray
The huntress has readied her bow
And just waits for his heart to show
She’s set a trap and, once again
The hunted bites finding naught within
But false hope and the fresh new pain
Of another dart’s bright red stain
Her aim is true, never missing mark
A shot through ear straight to the heart
Finding company amongst wounds
That haven’t killed but surely doomed
Satisfied hunt, the quarry alive
For pain is all the archer strives
The game stays up and keeps coming
The Huntress smiles and keeps gunning
Shot after shot from near and afar
Each creating a brand new scar
Save for the one that sailed over head
And only scrambled his brain instead
Battered and bruised, not giving ground
Wanting to scream, making no sound
The hunted feels warm but shivers
Waiting for an empty quiver
But more missiles fly, tearing flesh
Slowly putting out fire in chest
That once burned full of amour
Now growing colder by the hour
She could put end to agony
“But where’s the fun in that?” says she
So she fires on with bolts of guile
At helpless prey, sad, in denial
Feathered shafts always boring in
‘Til weathered soul was beaten thin
And arrows bounced and couldn’t mark
When,
Soft warm flesh became cold stone heart
Copyright © Joseph Soper | Year Posted 2017
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