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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Death · #2316818
A horseman and his steed go on an ill-fated journey to the forest.
With his steed the horseman comes
up the craggy hills —
up those grassy hills.

With the man the steed does run fast
to the forest land —
to the unknown land.

But man and horse, they hardly know
where the hills will lead them to.

The horseman sees a dog on foot
and shoots it in the head —
in the dog’s angry head.

The dog, unfazed, kept its pursuit
to bite the horseman’s leg —
the horseman’s bony leg.

The horseman, still, refused to fall
onto the dirty ground —
the taken, well-tread ground.

He and his steed sleep well tonight
atop their makeshift beds —
their crooked, straw-made beds.

The dog does keep itself in wait
with hunger in its eyes —
the beady, vicious eyes.

The horseman, who could not have known
that he and horse were not alone.

The sun, bright white, on land does shine
its rays onto the sea —
the abyss of the sea.

The horseman rose as did the sun
though blood poured from his leg —
his burden of a leg.

Horseman went to mount his steed;
beside them walked the dog —
the greedy, ragged dog.

Horseman fell onto the rocks
when the dog attacked the steed —
the faithful, fragile steed.

The steed did fall below the man
onto the jagged rocks —
the steep fall of the rocks.

The dog reflects, its face content,
on what it had just done —
what it’d again done.

Man and steed, a long way down
go underneath the sea —
the abyss of the sea.

The forest to which they tried to go
does remain untouched —
eternally untouched.
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