The HuntA Poem by Zach Gordano
I allow myself to be played
Like the sitting buck Frozen in fear. Maybe if I stand here and wait, You won't see me, Camouflaged into nature. But remember... The hunt is a game. As you stick out, glowing fluorescently, Brightening my day... Or at least I thought so. But you are really out to get me. Take me for what I am worth to you. Nothing. I am worthless. You cannot buy anything with a buck, But you can make all the sense in the world. Shoot me seven times. It was always my lucky number. And hang my head up high on your wall. Because I was the one hunting for you the whole time. So tear through my useless flesh And put my heart in a jar. Hold it close and see that my dreams were never too far. And when you are scared to hunt again, Take my fossilized trophy heart and listen to it sing A tune of sorrow, sadness. Let the bullets ring. © 2010 Zach Gordano |
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Added on January 31, 2010 Last Updated on January 31, 2010 Author
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