It's cold black eyes....
enlase a vehement stream of light.
To the poor gazelle....that sighs....
due to a complete visionary of it's devourer.
off it speeds...to have meet of it's might....
It's claws tear the gazelle's skin like rubber...
It bleats itself hoarse....
no one listens......
The smell of cold fresh blood escapes...
into vicinity ..
and it's life vamooses into the atmosphere...
Not so soon....to have itself rise....
The others live in stress....
of the leopard villain... that traipses...
sending charms of toxaemia through their spines...
A trinitus of it's roars...subscribes into their personality...
out of vengeance...they suffer...but..
not so soon...it shall all be over...
however how strident....
over a stride to make...a stoop still emays..
not so soon to be awake....
not so soon to taste freedom's delicacies...
not so soon....to have solace in themselves...
©ngashpetr
C