Matador
The bull began to run.

Sand flicked up as the bone-breaker
readies its evil attack.

Glistening with sweat, the black skin blurred,
as it skipped and stumbled on the sand.

Its ragged, black and lumpy tail flopped,
like something dancing on the spot.

The majestic blood-red horns glinted in the sun,
ready to spike his enemies to dye his horns.

Its golden eyes were full of sorrow like a lonely planet,
hoping he would win this round.

As blunt as a rock ,
the teeth did not belong to a muscular warrior

But the bull was trapped:
there was no way out.
He slowly fell onto the ground
as the world around him faded away.