The Hunt
I am the hunter,
and you are my prey.
My primal instincts are finely-tuned,
I’m crouched,
ready to strike.
Do you fear me,
oh weak and defenseless one?
Will you flee from my sharp fangs,
my exposed claws?
Are you terrified now?
You should be.
Once I have you in my trap,
you’ll never escape from my grasp.
You are my trophy,
my prize.
Shot down from your lofty perch
by my arrows of love.
Run if you wish,
but I will follow.
And you are my prey,
meant to be mine.
So come a little closer,
into my trap,
into my arms.
I am not so vicious,
am I?
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