The Hunter

January 2, 2011
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Our loudest silence in nervous waves,
Anticipates crashing with daggered rock.
Destructive wrath brings passionate graves,
As death’s hand, persecutes the clock.
Careening through labyrinths of twisted steel art-
The day’s ashes turned matches are now struck anew.
Reptetitive tumbles: ‘til death do we part,
Gripping our destiny, we captain our crew.
But this evil temptress – her storm will arise –
A tempered flurry of mankind’s struggle,
Raw protests are the defendants’ cries,
Enslaved by desire, to survive, we huddle.
Grouped in masses for execution,
The unspoken harshness – a collective fear –
Cooped up, entrapped in life’s prostitution
The hunt encroaches; the hunter is near.

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