Cautiously walking
over a carpet of leaves
scanning the horizon
hiding behind trees

Hearing their whines
their whimpers and cries
As I see the whites
of their eyes

All this I know
as the trumpet sounds
from my den
in the ground.

Crouching in bushes
a thorn pierces my skin
I must make no sound
I scream from within

My legs are weary
my mouth is dry
my adrenaline is flowing
as they pass me by,

I may be safe now
but they will come again
sniffing and searching
just like when

They hunted my parents
and hacked them down
ravaged their bodies
their blood all around,

I looked on in silence
watching the violent scene
then closed my eyes tightly
hoping it was all a dream.

To you the truth I tell
however bad it seems
the hunted will be hunted
unless they’re never seen.