Bidding his final goodbyes
Tears in his wife's eyes
The scrawny farmhand
Leaves for the kill
Sons to be fed
Daughter to be wed
The scrawny farmhand
Leaves for the kill
Swift as the wind he rides
Far from where he resides
The scrawny farmhand
Leaves for the kill
The stench of death fills the air
Close to the creature's lair
The scrawny farmhand
Moves for the kill
A cry in the dark
Strikes fear in his heart
But the scrawny farmhand
Moves for the kill
Between the old oak vines
The creature's cloak shines
The scrawny farmhand
Moves for the kill
YOU ARE READING
The Hunt
PoetryHighest rank - 144 in poetry. Evil lurks in the wild, taking life at will. Someone must stand up. But who? Dedicated to all who fight evil. There is no place for any kind of evil in this world, be it terrorists or petty robbers. A shout out to all...
