Angel eyes; devil’s in disguise.
Suave moves; target’s close.
Locked, shot, and no smoking barrel
Prey’s down on a virtual ground.
7th target desires to ascend,
Facing the arrow, he wants to bleed again.
Grip fierce, stance arrogant; he has time to defend.
Serenity personified, breathing gently, praising the cazador.
Staring at the unknown; waiting for the horizon while he can.
No wound, no scar, no blood on the tar,
Killer’s on the move again, no holds barred.
SOS’ disabled; the hunter’s unarmed.
The sweet pain of death, stone’s laid.