Today I Do Not Want To Be A Unicorn

The moon reflects all its sadness
in the pool of silvery blood slowly
dripping off the gnarled roots of the
fallen trees. Its mane, pearly-white,
spreads among the rustic leaves as
angel wings. The gleaming twisted horn
comes sharply to a point, now useless
against the looming dangers the
dark forest holds within its abode.
Long slender legs connect to
strong grey hooves, still and beautiful
even in the grasp of death. A pure white
coat is now mangled by the lure of
evil so black. The time to flee, to
survive, is long past and the creature
can only lay upon the stained ground,
awaiting a dawn that will never rise.