The Hunt

The Hunt, all that matters is the Hunt.
It pounds in my head, flows in my veins,
Brings fire to my eyes, strength to my arms.

I fly through the grounds,
Silent as an arrow, fast as death.
Nothing stops me but the death of my prey.

The Hunt, all that matters is the Hunt.
It pounds in my head, flows in my veins,
Brings fire to my eyes, strength to my arms.

I find my prey unawares,
Easy to kill, easy to spare.
I pass it by, too easy; go hunt another

The Hunt, all that matters is the Hunt.
It pounds in my head, flows in my veins,
Brings fire to my eyes, strength to my arms.

I find another; much more challenge.
I stalk, hide, wait – tense, ready.
It hunts too, easier prey.
It raises its head, ready to pounce.
I pounce first; spear through his back,
Knife through his throat.
Now he dies, becomes my prize.

The Hunt, all that matters is the Hunt.
It pounds in my head, flows in my veins,
Brings fire to my eyes, strength to my arms.

Who cares that he was just as human as I?