another one

Standard

The hunt

She runs like sound, or so I’ve heard

Red cape flapping on the wind

And soon will spread like wings of bird

As the game of hunt begins

She runs from lions that catch at heels

Her flight revealing heart of fear

Or maybe wolves that search out meal

The baying rings like bells in ear

And panting, less than steps ahead

She stumbles on her own two feet

And the moment what fills her heart with dread

Is looming down and comes to greet

As earth is rushing up to hands

And teeth come flashing down her throat

Her belly growls it’s harsh demand

Across her face the rage has wrote

A cry for blood has come to call

Then keening, crying, and rending flesh

The chasers come upon her fall

Chew and rip til nothing’s left

Drinking blood like sweetest wine

The sounds of crunching, cracking bone

With moans of pleasure intertwine

Then silence falls… The girl’s alone

 

 

 

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3 responses »

  1. Yikes like haha damn. Lot of snarl behind this one turning old images on head. kind of a black widow thing going on tho

    • 😀 it’s kind of like a hard candy (don’t watch that movie unless you have a strong stomach!) version of little red riding hood.I had this idea rolling inside my head of seeming innocence being a very dangerous trap sometimes. When I got the riding hood analogy, the poem wrote itself. I just held the pen.

  2. Yikes like haha damn. Lot of snarl behind this one turning old images on head. kind of a black widow thing going on though

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