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12 point buck My long forgotten cousin, life looks good through the window Fences strap down the Earth to the earth and the animals to forsaken corners of my globe. Your torn leg was no match for 160 horses and two tons of steel. I wish I could close my eyes, and open my heart to speak your tongue, and heal your wounds, to feel your soft fur still warm and alive not a motionless trophy. But my species has other goals, so I trudge inside out of the cold out of the death. Life looks good. Through the window. But you made me step outside. |