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The Serpent


What do you do when your hands are chained?
When the blood from your soul has been drained?
What happens when a serpent strikes your chest?
Do you wake up? Is your pride put to rest?
The snake reveals its teeth, sharp knives on your breast,
You savour it, you smile, you’re like a woman possessed.
The thick blood rolling down your thigh, dripping,
The serpent with its thick black tongue, sipping.
Its scales soothing, embracing your legs, your feet,
Its venom on your lips, sugary sweet.
It only takes a single look from those feverish eyes,
To know that you are its silky wet prize.
When the serpent opens its mouth, what do you find?
Does your life flash before you? Or do you go blind?
When you’re chained and hurting, do you blame your chest?
Or do you rightfully blame the serpent, possessed?


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