Deer In Headlights You only see them when It’s too late or nearly so Hypnotized by your high Beams twin swords Scabbarded in darkness It’s up to you to do something Either swerve or gun it Praying that the wind Shield doesn’t shatter Later if there is a Later you will tell how still She stood in the face Of her death like A martyr who cried out In joy when the blade Stabbed through her heart So that the executioner Walked away a believer