Evening falls as darkness takes its place
Polishing this world in which I roam in
I sigh and feel relieved after a nice day of sleep
Now I the king of the night is ready to proceed
I turn my head fast enough for a prey to perceive
Fixation; eyes forward large, dark and fierce
Inducing the fear in every inch of my casualty
Spreading my wings, I initiate the flight
Feathers of dull coloration, I diffuse in the dark
Silent and still, anticipation washes over
As I dribble of desire to feel that soul on my filoplumes
Then ... It is done.
Crime set, hunger feed, Target dead.
Sun starts to rise, light shone upon the scene
As I the prisoner go back to my cell
Planning my next game, my next kill.
Filoplumes : small hair-like feathers on the beak and feet that act as "feelers".
