The Bull

Red waved in front of wide eyes
Blood boiled and boldness led
Charging forward to their whim
No bull sees the sword behind the cape
For sport? For entertainment? A moment, a day, months of boredom?
The bull has no real anger.
The bull holds no grudge.
The bull lived to see red.
The bull accepts the blade through the shoulders to his heart.
The bull lives to do it again and again and again and again and again and again and again.

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