MusingsPoetry

Monster Hunt

Silent whispers, silent cries
Bleeding blades, rolling eyes
Gnashing fangs, clutching claws
Quivering hunters, dropping jaws

Behind, dried leaves crash
Heads turn in a flash
Whirling wind, monster approaches
The air smells of dead roaches

One, two, three men down
Twelve faces left to frown
Fuming hunters, blood boils
Triggered gun recoils

The night grows calm, not a single sound
Hearts beat fast, danger profound
Noise heard, bullets shot again
The beast roars in pain

The monster falls, broken prides
Hunters approach in cautious strides
Fallen beast sighted, faces beam with smiles
Quick the monster rises, bodies fall in piles.

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