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3
Poetry
Prey
Anjana Sura
I am the lion of my forest,
I am the hunter of my prey.
While the prey stands, all I do is hound.
And what's left are the preys dying sounds.
I play a game, a game that I always win.
It will later hurt me, because what I do is a heinous sin.
Sometimes there are better days,
Bearing down on me like soft snowflakes.
And sometimes every where I see the colour is grey,
Because this the time when I realise that for my hate and anger I am the prey.
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