Serpent

16 2 2
                                    

No one's perfect as they say,

We're all crooked in our own ways,

That dark part of us shoved away,

We still smile throughout the day.

Like nothing's wrong, a perfect little doll,

A small shimmer of guilt behind thick walls,

But it's long shoved out of the way,

Saving one from his own dismay.

Nobody knows, they don't have to anyways,

It'll only make things worse, peace far away,

Though someone has already seen, taken notes,

And we still pray nobody notices or knows.

Darkest parts of a soul, never to be told,

If taken a form, it's worse than any storm,

All that guilt, built up for a very long time,

Now staring right back at you, with all pride.

That monster, is no stranger to you,

You know it too well, as it's smirking at you,

A pet, you unknowingly fed and cared,

Shuddering and trembling, ohh so scared.

Staring down, that monstrous serpent hisses aloud,

Run as fast. Desperately seeking refuge in a crowd,

Crowd nowhere seen, hell, you're not even moving,

It's time to finally face that monster sneering.

Ignorant pet, nothing more; You're the master no more,

Glued to feet just to gawk, no place to run for the fraud,

All that locked up disasters, flashing before eyes,

Someone freed it on purpose, with stolen keys from high.

A liar, a thief, every heart broken for delight,

Now exposed, clearly to be seen under the light,

No better than any of them, not innocent, not saint,

Various mask torn, shredded apart in vain.

It's you. Vicious monster a mere reflection,

Your heart filthy and tainted, no fake perfection,

But there is also a small, flickering light within,

No mere sinner, inside a little good still living.

Channelling that of what's left, a sword appears in hand,

A weapon to wield, a chance to be free, your only friend,

Death grip upon the handle, the good flashes bright,

A truth teller, a lover so kind, blade burns with light.

Slash! Slash! Blindly moving, eyes closed tight,

Burning with hot tears, shivering in fright,

It's done. Dead and cold, not slithering anymore,

Standing dumbstruck, blood all over the floor.

Bitter Sweet AdventuresWhere stories live. Discover now