They're as swift as a lightning bolt,
Just a stern gaze—gazelles revolt.
A fleeting shadow in the night,
All prey leap off in frantic fright.
Stalking prey is their known special skill,
A silent whisper, born to kill.
Seventy miles per hour they race,
Yet still they blaze with fiery pace.
Their claws, a nightmare to all flesh,
Though they prefer their meals served...
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