The Snake

by coolazice

Posted to Poetry on 2003-10-30 14:37:00

Sometimes the snake
In a world of ripe fulfilling
Goes a little mad.

He shakes off his skin
And carves into the ground
The pieces of his destiny.

And in the brilliant heat of the jungle,
Where the sun pours forth a brew
Lush and radiant from the south,
The new-found creature
Turns its gaze
To the nest of young mice.


He is flawed, but what can we do?
There is no other snake.

-Noah

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