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The Hunter Hebior
Alone, barefoot, cold.
Survival is a struggle.
The last on this planet,
you rule this earth.
Dirty, egregious, flyblown.
Food is futile.
The last on this planet,
you try to rule this earth.
Grim, haggard, idle.
Zero chance for survival,
carefree and cadaverous.
The last on this planet,
you struggle to rule this earth.
Juiceless, kaput, languid.
Eight humans approach,
instantly irreclaimable.
The last on this planet,
you no longer rule this earth.
Meek, naked, optimistic.
One angel descends from the heavens,
peril is perceived.
No longer on this planet,
you ruled this earth.
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This peice was written about the hebior mammoth exhibit at the Milwaukee Public Museum.