Serpent Servant, Part I

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Poetry.

Submitted: December 14, 2011

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Submitted: December 14, 2011

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Great Accusor,
with your triton in hand,
and your cackle so grand.
A kiss to thine disgusting tress,
you expect nothing less,
but I digress.

Your serpent trails,
mimics your every last breath.
If only it were your last,
to come upon thine untimley death.

But not even the wolves desire your blood,
the poison in it alone would destroy them.

Lash out; it appears you must,
you were never one to trust.
Your heart is forming rust;
you were never one to trust.

But not even the wolves desire your blood,
the poison in it alone would kill them.

Your serpent trails,
mimics your every last breath.
If only it were your last,
to come upon thine untimley death.

Great Accusor,
with your triton in hand,
and your cackle so grand.
A kiss to thine louse-filled tress,
you expect nothing less,
but I digress.


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