­I lay in the damp grass,

Watching the clouds come to pass.

The day dwindled on,

A spindly broken baby fawn,

Stumbling and shaking,

Those tiny legs almost breaking.

She crouched to smell the flowers,

Weeds curling up her legs in bristly towers.

They pulled the darling to Earth,

But, what is it worth?

A cracked baby can’t shake loose from it’s shackles,

Or so that’s what I’m told…

Cloud cover turns to thunder,

Born of the darkness, a hunter.

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