Sense Sonnet - Steamer

In the Blood

A way of life for centuries,
Pitting the man against the bull,
Surrounded by bred tendencies
To take fate's measure forced and full.
The roaring sounds sweep like a flood
Across the time and place of skill,
Echoing passions drenched in blood
And boiled to frenzy for the kill.
Such artful motions of the cape
Are preludes to that piercing lance.
The conquered has but one escape.
Thus, ends once more this mortal dance.

Duty demands a death in prize.
One beast lives as one beast dies.