Bookaholic

She violently caught her prey,
Becoming a kind of a hunter.
It met a deadly fate,
As a fish out of the water.

Minutely,its details she saw
To understand the message of it.
No one seeing, for sure,
Her trying to hide in a pit.

Her ecstasy was flowing
As she kept going on.
She didn’t hear the growling
Phantoms at the next door.

Feeling satisfied with her scrutiny
The cover of the book she closed.
Now, her next prey waited gloomily
Since the end of its life had come.

[[ Poema inspirado, en un microcuento que escribí hace años. Lo hice como un trabajo para la Universidad ]]

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