There is an arrow in my side
Shot from an unknown direction
Its sender delicate in its construction
The perfect piece of wood and metal
To puncture flesh and break through bone.
I call to know the archer's name with no response.
So I sleep above the ground tonight,
With fear to be beneath tomorrow.
I wake to find the arrow gone.
I wonder was it even there?
The hunter is my head.
The hunter is the prey.
The hunter is my fear.
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