His prey is stunned; he’s on the ropes,
Yet his reaction was too slow;
He waited but needed to go.
Though graceful as the antelopes,
A sloth-like choice dash all his hopes.
Move the attack from here to there,
Finish the fight, don’t stop and stare.
Opposition starts to come back;
Instead of red, he’ll soon see black.
Some don’t possess a killer’s flair.
Prompted from Ronovan Writes Decima Poetry Challenge Prompt at: https://ronovanwrites.com/2021/07/07/ronovan-writes-decima-poetry-challenge-prompt-no-65-go-in-the-b-rhyme-line/.