A nice father son hunting poem

HUNTING POEM
well ever since I was twelve
I have loved the sport of hunting
dad and I would go with our guns
and try to get some animals a-jumpin



we left the house at around three
before the sun had even woke
we walked for hours throgh the brush
and neither one of us spoke.

The sun began to break through the trees
and the thaw began to melt through the frost
the birds had started chirping
and the feeling of early morning drowsiness was lost.

My spirits began to warm
and the excitement of the hunt had set in
the nerves were now jumpy
and my eyes scoured the area again and again
It seemed like it had been hours
how long had I been waiting?
I felt compelled to look at my watch
I could feel the prime time fading.

Just then I hear the noise
hopefully a beast lurking nearby
my eyes devour the landscape
but all I see is a bird flying by


It really has been hours now
I feel my conciousness wanting to sleep
the birds chirping, the bees buzzing
I keeping jerking awake,but try to be discreet



Finally! I hear the noise I have wanted
bushes are shaking just at the end of the clearing
I raise my gun to point at the culprit
but my patience is definitely not endearing.



I loose my cool! I get buck fever
firing into the bush without a second thought
the movement stops immediately
as if I hit it directly;there was no fight to be fought





I get out of my stand
run with all of my body I can demand
I get over to the bush
start to look in and see a hand.




Because I killed this being with a name
panic hits me like a fucking train.
what was I to do? Where was I to go?
I am definitely headed to hell below.

Fuck it I say- just look again
while pulling back the branches of the death bush
I feel the crreep up my spine
as I look upon the spectacle of my fathers head crushed.


The sickness sets in; I get dizzy
I will never be able to live with what I have done
my mother, my sister, brother!
How will they feel when their blood runs.



There is nothing left to do
my fate is sealed in the stupidity of my impulsive deeds
I place my teeth on the cold steel barrel
as I slowly pull the trigger and dream of egyptian reeds.
THE END