2011 - Day 7

A green bottle
The deer stares coldly,
But I return a steady gaze
The sound of Cotton,
A background hum
Nothing exists,
Only the 6 point Buck,
Eyes painted black
No pupils at all.
A roar in the distance,
A Tiger has pounced.
And just like the Tiger,
I attack my prey,
Feed on the elixir within,
A smile slowly emerges.