hunter

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His hands are calloused and torn, browned by the sun as always but now they are stained red with blood   Silent, he grips the butt of his rifle with one hand and a dirty cloth with the other  
The hunter's arrow Sleek and swift Pointed straight at my foot What he was aiming for Could not fly   The clouds were not his friends Focused too much on the wormy muddle
test me  i dare you: because one day i will have had enough  and you will realize that though i may be a freak  i am a freak to be reckoned with so remember that when you go to push me down 
    A sharp noise in the air No people to stare The cold air bites my skin I wish I could be free It’s a never-ending hunt and I am the hunted
  Wolves grace along      in packs, the      beauty of their      fur ruffle in      the wind, snow,      and sun rays.  All so bright,      the wolf touches
There is a crossroads up ahead.
  Controlled             The president of stealth             You come upon our domain             Invisible: ghost; roaming within shadows
  The scorching Serengeti heat casts a spotlight
 Shining on a glorious creature whose life is finite
 He enters the land of the stories untold But he is the hunter whose task is so bold

  
Alone and afraid and Against all Odds we attested to Our awful phobias.
The Hunter’s Dilemma The hunter is a proud person Proud of where he comes from Proud of what he does And proud of what he has done.
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