The Serpent
As you slither and slide in the eye of your mind.
So deceptive and cunning in a truth hard to find.
The venom you speak, poisoned with your fork tongue.
With no rhyme or no reason, with no right or no wrong.
Like a cold-blooded serpent that creeps out from the dark.
Inch worming your words with a complete disregard.
As you spit out your poison, you convince to believe.
With your words so deceitful, words designed to bereave.
In a dark web of lies, possessed like jezebel.
As you dance with the cobra whilst casting your spell.
With your venomous whisper, your forked tongue try's to weave.
It's a tapestry that's tangled as you try to deceive.
Like a slithering snake that is devious and sly.
With your camouflage of colours on your prey, you do pry.
A wolf in sheep's clothing, with no shepherd or flock.
You believe your own lies, your deception's non-stop.
Beware of those shadows they creep into the night.
In dark lonely corners, they huddle in spite.
Their glances are fleeting and their smile just disguise.
In a life of betrayal and a concealment of lies.
So please heed this warning when darkness is near.
In their sweetest of promises, may harbour a fear.
For beneath this snakes charm a deceit so profound.
The deception of serpents where no truth can be found.
Copyright © Sean Wilde | Year Posted 2024
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