Dark shadows flicker
All stay unaware
The presence of a prowler
The master of being scarce
Silently we stalk,
Swiftly we move
With little sound,
A body hits the floor
The darkness recedes
In your death a life is found
They may grieve
They may think badly of us
Hatred, fear..
None matters.
With detachment,
A professional demeanour
We live on
In death we find our life.
(Wolfshadows Poetry/pose competition Year 188 ~ Finished at 3rd place)
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