Snakes

Wed, 02/05/2014 - 07:56 -- Weathur

The ones that like to strike at the weak

We see them everywhere we walk

Hunting for their prey until they find new blood to seek

 

They wait for the perfect moment to bite and poison

Or the perfect moment to snap and strangle 

But it doesn't change the outcome or the reason

 

The sense of superiority and seat on the throne

Could've been that they were just scared

Maybe it was wounds that accumulated on their own

 

Did they ever turn back and think about what they've done

The choices they made and the effects

Do they know that they were the one

 

The venom that drips down the fang

The venom that seeps through their veins

The venom that needs to change

 

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