Shot
The metal messenger of death whistled past my ear.
Exploding gunpowder blooming like fireworks across the forest of fear.
Run.
Hide.
But I knew not which way.
My weary legs were filled with lead and I knew I couldn't stay.
"Stop scrambling around would ya," echoed his raspy voice.
At my wit’s end, I had not any choice.
The gunmetal black, almost beautiful I’d say,
Tucked under my arm, a lone bullet within it lay.
I imagined the wolf, the prowler in the night,
My ragged body basking in the moon’s light.
I took my stance, of a beast out to slay.
Little did he know, the predator was now prey.
With bloodshot eyes and nerves of steel,
I made my move, his fate to seal.
A rustling in the grass was all he heard,
He turned around muttering his final word.
His desperate hands reached for the trigger,
In vain of course, he knew from my snigger,
As the decisive shot rang through the jungle's ears,
Born was a beast that night, cold and fierce.
