Tale of the Asp
Burlap marinated in backwater ponds.
That's what the spirit of truth often dons.
Always forever and mahogany strong...
Untruth, the drunk weaving down a neon road.
A pair of vertical eyes, a million potholes.
Always the deceiver, never yearns to give back.
So much quicker than what you'd expect.
This type of fool fancies chasing the tail of the Asp.
Truth, the cay of salvation circled by sharks
Lone firefly piercing the mask from the dark.
Gilded loom of the humble and homespun heart.
Untruth, supreme seductress of venomous ID.
Vertical eyes hissing for death.
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