The Reluctant Prey
Black grass dances in the warm winter air
And furry quadrupeds run wild with the
Shackles of instinct.
The metallic creature gives spontaneous birth
To bipeds who desire to kill for sport;
Two worlds and instincts collide.
A Million worlds and a
One-in-a-million meeting
Beneath the glow of a red moon.
Hunger for pleasure,
Pleasure for hunger,
And the reason; existential desire.
In the midst of a pack of quadrupeds,
A hairless creature limps;
Forelegs short; hindlegs long.
A lamed quadruped sees a biped,
Stands on hind legs, and
Breaks the shackles of instinct.
Copyright © Rex Holiday | Year Posted 2020
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