The Fire

April 27, 2010
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Dust settles, smoke arises
One, and twelve
gritting teeth, loss of sense
act from fear, not hope
the leap, gnash
flocked around, dancing merrily without movement
eye to eye, one at a time
spikes thrust
sense in oblivion
survival first
warping air and time
gracefully gliding
last, one slash
falls to its knees
victorious to live another day

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