An innocent thing. A nighttime drive, wheels turning, engine humming, Moving forward into darkness. A brown blur flashes across the black strip, from one side to the next. Two pairs of eyes inside the car pierce the shape with their gaze, Just as the headlights pierce the night ahead. Two mouths inside open to speak in shock. A second later, another form speaks, A scream of flesh against metal, one skin meeting another, More resistant, unyielding, destroying. An innocent thing. A brown arrow moving through the dark, Flight cut short of the bullseye of safety in the brush, Flesh meeting metal, flesh giving way. The shape spins topsy turvy tumbling Back to the safety no longer safe once left. An innocent thing. Gazing out from the car with huge blue eyes. Eyes taking in the form on the ground, Its own eyes rolling, legs twiching, heart racing. Inside, the stomach clenches and rolls with each twich, Each time the slender legs lash out in fear and anger Trying to outrace what is overtaking it fast. Two hearts pound, two souls cry out, as the truck pulls up, The man steps out, With the gun.