Like a happy, oblivious flying bird shot through the sky, I fall.
I am hunted, I see the eyes that pursued me, While I am in pain, pleading for death, Those eyes don't talk to me. They don't speak answers or express emotions But leer at me with utmost attention Like they were sure about slicing my limbs- As if blinking would be condemned.
A vague attempt in the process of getting back to writing. Do criticize!