The dragon pounced, like a hungry dog

Waiting for his meal angrily.

The blistery spikes sharp

Like a set of knives.

His razor sharp nails stabbing

Into the ground with every inch

He takes.

His scaly skin was as rough

As a dry bowl of cereal.

His eyes were lava, all red, orange

And yellow like a sunset.

The dragon named Kutsa whispers

Death in anyone’s ear if they come

too close.