My breath quickens,
My heart pounds,
I stalk my prey,
with lighting fast bounds.
Fear haunts,
and slows them down,
As my sword is drawn.
Thin as paper,
Tough as steel,
how it wheels in for the kill.
Plunging through,
Tearing flesh,
without a sound,
the meat is fresh.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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