Blue snakes under his skin,
How fun would it be
To cut them out,
And lay them, wriggling, on the desk,
Secrets bared for all to see.
Red snakes in his brain,
These he can never remove.
Spiralling like water down the drain,
Seeping into every vein.
White snakes in his mouth,
With every word they slither out,
And twist into a web he cannot escape.
And if all the snakes were to flee,
What would be left of me?
He has grown used to the snakes and forgotten what it feels like to be free.
YOU ARE READING
The Dark And Day
PoetryDuality exists in every aspect of our lives. Light and dark, good and bad, pain and pleasure. Our souls are bared through our words, our own duality revealed. || Poetry Anthology || || Awards || 2nd Place in Poetry - Pawsome Awards 2022 © Ethan Embe...
