Why? and for what

Made up to the eyeballs

mascara to the fore

nails painted

she’s  aquainted

with all aspects of the law

a lady on a mission

amorousness her forte

she’s carrying a rifle

and someone’s going to pay

the blusher on her cheeks

rubs off on the wood

as she bends down

and aims her gun

as any hunter should

into the sun

just north of the town

and there he is

a brave soul

she needs to get him down

slinking through the undergrowth

in the cool light of the day

unaware of the women

the siren bent on death

the assassin in her camouflage

with a shortness in her breath

bending, watching aiming

and the trigger then she cocks

and fires the bullet that flies like hell

and as it hits, it rocks

our hero, he’s a wild  boy

a spirit of the field

living with his ancestors

his knowledge all does yield

he is a mighty warrior

cut down in the prime of life

by a city whore who breaks

Nature’s Law

and gives the kingdom strife

a delusion in her manner

a disaffection for

the wild life and the predators

for she was very sure

her father told her long ago

the wolf was one to kill

she had a loathing for them

and their blood she had to spill

and there she sits as arrogant

as the day is long

made up to the eyeballs

a big smile

which is wrong

she is ill conditioned to

pretend she has the right

to kill this brave soul and to

show its corpse out in the light

her pitilessness apparent

her truculence so bad

a kind of gloating savagery

which I find extra sad