A Hunter

He hunts with his gun
fires his bullets of steel
a brain dead sad stalker
who just cannot feel
whose heart was torn out
by the ravens of time
and who slinks away into
a great pit of slime

He hides behind trees
with the ivy he stands
his eyes do not question
neither his hands
he holds the great dread
points it straight at the child
the wild one, whose
home is the forest
so mild

dappled with autumn
a heart beating fast
the shadows proclaim
the sentinels blast
a sharp crack we hear
and the bullets of steel
fly though the air
to the child that is real

and down she falls, flat
her legs kick the air
a cry that will break maidens hearts
she does share
the killer, he laughs
that’s the hunter
the coward
the creep who may weep
in the midst of a crowd

over he goes and stand there
supreme
he’s slaughtered a child
who was living her dream
what a brave sod he is
what does he do
he poses an arse
there that is my view