The Reformed Hunter

The Reformed Hunter

The rush of hunting season
Was now separate from him
It was spent,
In a haul across oceans afire

Now the weight of his rifle
Only drags him along through the horror
Of boneyards, and screaming old friends

Never again, will the hot muzzle flash
Never again
Will he reload the breach

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loftydreams101's

Keeping the world immersed in stanza.