Tiny the elephant

In a land where fear does seize,
There roams an elephant named Tiny, with ease.
With eyes like thunderclouds, dark and fierce,
He prowls the forest, his anger to release.
Oh, beware the wrath of Tiny, they say,
For he hunts you down, from dusk till day.
Through tangled vines, he crashes and looms,
His mighty presence shattering woods to gloom.
With trunk raised high, like a weapon of might,
He sniffs the air, ready to ignite.
His ivory tusks, sharp as a sword,
A predator unleashed, his prey to hoard.
Fear not the silence, for it is a deadly call,
Tiny's footsteps, a harbinger of a terrifying brawl.
Through moonlit nights, he follows his trace,
Tracking you swiftly, with each measured pace.
His memory vast, like an ancient tome,
He knows your scent, no matter how you roam.
No hiding place, no refuge to find,
Tiny's determination inscribed in his mind.