The Hunting Season

The snow covers the sky and the ground,
everything is colourless except for the red dots.
The strong scent of the blood wafts through the woods,
and in the middle of the forest a bloody tower stands,
watching over the non-existent animals.

Drip, Drop, Drip, Drop,
A single hind leg pokes out from the lumpy tower.
Drip, Drop, Drip, Drop,
A single head with a proud crown that used to exist,
cries the tears of blood.

Grass and the trees change into priceless blood-red dresses,
but they are a mere imitation of the season before.
A lonesome wolf cries for her pack in the distance,
howling for something that would never return.

Blood and tears mix with the sounds,
of the humans’ excited cries.
It seems as if a small shard of the word ‘paradise’,
was also hunted down by these creatures,
who sit at the top of the food chain.

Sacred

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