There is nothing better than the hunt,
As I smile so carnivorously,
I think of when I first began,
The day the search first ran.
It was a beautiful day,
As I was locked inside,
By a mother who doth protest too much,
An decided it was my turn to be beaten amuck.
I cried and I cried,
As old as I was…
There was no end or beginning
To the pain that I felt
And so the only way to ease it,
Was to share this pain, with everyone.
So began, my very first hunt.
And now, many years later,
I wonder ever still,
How the hunter has not become the unter,
Even as the scent of the prey lingers.
She is standing there alone.
Alone.
Just like me now.
Mother is gone, so it’s just me.
Me and the hunt.
She has a beauty,
You’d have to look at for a while,
To truly see.
But underneath she just feels lonely,
Just like me.
So I must hunt her,
And share my pain,
As she walks home alone,
Well I take her by the face,
And I kiss her forcefully,
And smother her fright inside of me,
Take her to the “forest”,
Where all will be decided.
She has calmed on the outside,
But the fear is consuming her eyes,
Slowly I take her clothes,
And oh what a glow,
Her skin seems to have been made for me,
For this very day,
Nothing better than the hunt,
And the trophy that lay,
Beneath me.
Being the Hunter I took and I gave,
With blood and with fear,
Forcefully she was laid.
And after all was said and done,
I think for a second it was clear,
That in that pristine moment,
When she first started to tear.
She felt it, Yes she did.
The pain of the hunter and the hunted.