Single Moments

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A boy, or a hunter?

Submitted: September 17, 2015

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Submitted: September 17, 2015

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Moments

 

There he sits in his hunters robe,

A monstrous grin etched onto his face.

~

The bloodied hand raises up,

Rifle in it's grasp.

~

He pulls the trigger,

Shooting a line of violent lies.

~

It ruptures and breaks,

Firing upwards into his fat face.

~

Blood drips from his rotten flesh,

But still he holds he gun handle.

~

The cloak falls revealing a wolf bearing teeth layin' upon his chest,

A low growl can he heard as the eyes peer from the dense ragged hair.

~

A sudden spark sets ablaze the purple trousers,

The red raw skin soon jitters and rips.

~

But still the devil's mouth spits and curses,

Not in pain nor in hatred.

~

But in temptation.

~

He reels back inside but forces the trigger,

Just as the bastard animal claws back at his face.

~

Silence,

Eagle eyes pin me down.

~

The wide plain glasses fall off the cliff,

As the shining slab is surrounded by a ring of ever falling ash.

~

The bird suddenly darts off,

Leaving the voice to scream out attention.

~

Their idiotic and pathetic means soon shine through,

As they fight to gain the love of the vulture.


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