PoemsBrowse PoemsSlamsFresh DropEchoes
LearnWriting TipsPoetry TermsPoets & ArtistsBooksFor Teachers
ExplorePoetry GenomePoem MapEchoesTake ActionGroups
AboutWrite a PoemDonateSign UpLog In

Like a python


 

             Withering the soil, my slithery skin akin to a death touch destroys.

 

My eyes have no eyelids for they have lingered gazing at the horizon eternally.

They have frozen in time, the light they craved to witness was a lie.

 

My mouth burns and i see smoke through the periphery of my pupil… 

My tongue has interwoven itself with lies and illusions; though now its choice has made it separate in two pieces…

My fangs come out from dark and deep layers to burn the flowers and leaves, they are sharp like obsidian… 

From the edge dripping-the sound echoes-in caves with vast gloom, the venom propagates and spits out my heart’s desires to decay.

 

My heart is gargantuan in comparison to how much I actually care…

filled with dirty waters who contaminate my vessels.

My stomach is a sack, teeming with shades of blue, and it is so brumal… 

I looked into it once and foresaw a red abyss with no visible sight…

of satisfaction.

I feel the muscles tense up… they crumble and tremble at sights, Love which they haven’t quenched. So arid it is now.

The acids inside my body are more pernicious than any vile vice… the cradle of my sins.

The crux and base of the lie… which dissects my limbs one by one like shattered glass.

 

My tail is elongating as time swims… thinking this, i sought terminality to the abyss and saw purple… 

Out that end, flashbacks and memories made my muscles constrain and constrict as if a 1000 needles punctured them.

My scales felt like paper watered by blue blood… they opened so if lightning wanted entrance they’d plan a ballad for them to kill.

Poking and jabbing, such pestilent like plagues, intending to cause turmoil in my now-no-longer-legs.

 

My scars are encrusted like diamonds on my final shield… the end of my trail, through arduous paths they keep deepening.

They are nothing but a mark of weakness which I dread ardently.

 

Corroded my skin is now, so i’ll shed it like purple tears off my pores.

 
©All Rights Reserved

Something wrong with this poem?

Share

Replies are closed for this poem.

If you or someone you know is struggling, you are not alone.

988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline — call or text 988, 24/7. Crisis Text Line — text HELLO to 741741.

Your Poem's Voice

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

Comments are closed for this poem.