Poetry

Red

Crimson tears run down my cheeks, Yes my wound runs through that deep.

Stabbed then gutted from within, the hurt is great/like hell & hate.

Short period of happiness, long period of Resolution.

What if Vengeance becomes My Weapon?

Guts sewn back in/ leaving venom/ intoxicating veins/ burning angry /extracting pain.

Will I then become the deadliest of all snakes?

You believe I am Snake Charmed/ with sounding words of flute-like rhymes/ Ruby red my eyes will shine.

Once you’re sure of my entrancement/ One sudden graceful swerve & upon your jugular falls my sweetest poison.

Agonizing death for My only, is all that is left.

Satisfaction Rises like volcanic fury & lasts just but seconds.

For this Queen Cobra rather live with venomous guts & a venomous heart, than live without the one She Loves.

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