I can hear the song of the hartebeest
Their hooves drum to a hunger
My feet tremble as they blur past
I wished they did not miss
Crushing me under-hoof!
I can sing to a fear or a wandering damsel
As I drown deep in the wonder and hate
But none are as cruel as the Huntress
She slashes as She claws for me
Blood splattered plain on the dirt
The herd of the hartebeest,
Unlucky in their tramplings!
Where do we go when the riverbed is dry?
Where do we run when the cats kill
One by one!
For I am a little hare
A nothing on the speck of the savanna
Hazel beneath Her claws
While we wait for the Cerulean to screech
Unsettled ticks run through space
They trip Her as She crawls on Her belly
And she eats the dust!
Enough for the hunt to go awry
But because I am a little hare
The same color as the sand She chokes on
Her talons still reach my pure soul
I am dripping orange sunsets and purple twilights
But scarlet beneath Her claws
Where do I go when the river is my own blood?
Where do I run when the grass turns red
And the Cat kills one by one?
Little hare run
Little hare run!
YOU ARE READING
Mutt
PoetryOnce, a very long time ago, there was a girl. She was Lucifer, the most beautiful fallen angel. She lied to me. Spat on me. Sneered in my face. But here I was with my butterfly net trying to catch her light. I hated my self. Why was I so fucking sca...
