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The White Lion

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Her eyes are bleached to
Slaughter.
Her lungs fill the air with every
Thunderous crash of her song.
The saunter of a queen
Proud and protective.

Nothing stands in her way.

She sits,
Patient and keen
Stalking is her daily ritual.
Hunger starts to swarm over her.

The merger leaves the sward
Standing out further than the others.
He’s gone too far to turn back now-
Keep running away,

The gazelle simply grazes away at
Succulent grassland,-
Without a recognition about the insatiable monster
That momentarily will sink his massive paws
Into its hind legs,
And quickly snap his jaw into its spine.

The moist essence of flesh.

Dragging another body,
A dirt filled carcass.
Drooling sensational blood
This kill is hers.

Never meant to hurt anyone
But that’s just how it goes.





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