The Matador
The Matador spun and slipped aside
Let his sword tap the hide
Of a ragging beast
Tormented so
Would this end
So badly, though
The Matador pirouetted
Arms up high
His cape curtained
Death inside
Dressed in Red and black finery
A peculiar hat
Left over from another century
He danced and strode so devil may care
The crowd cried ooooooo
Wishing death not be spared
And the ballet went to and fro
The aging beast snorted though
To a cocky doll of a man so dressed
His back turned, to a the cunning beasts best
And when the horn of righteous was speared
The back of the Matadors back bled, his eyes teared
The crowed Jeered, called for death,
the beast not be sparred
help that came to the swordsman’s aide
They tired so valiantly to save his time, his grade
The Matador fell to his knees, begged for the mercy
A bull would never see
The bull flipped him to heights not seen
Chased the rest, off the scene
Ran around the coral with snorting scarring pride
Scaring the audience
To run, and hide
I held firm from my perch
I saw the sword of the mighty, lurch
And when his end finally came
I was so glad he left his mark
Wondered, would I be able to say the same?
