swaying like the breeze of morning spray.

My presence often pose a threat to living things,

and feed from the skin of the weakling kind.

One day, I decided to go hunting wearing another dress,

little did I know my real appearance is what they fear,

what’s the essence of changing my scary dress?

It’s better I be myself and rule again.

NIGHTMARE OF THE JUNGLE 

Poem

I’m a nightmare of the jungle,

swaying like the breeze of morning spray.

My presence often pose a threat to living things,



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