A Snake

Such vivid lies he tells,
that I, their subject, almost believe them.
With such horrific conviction he tells them,
as if he believes them.
Is he really lying to me-
or to himself?

I, I know him,
(even though he disputes it,)
I know how low he'll sink
to feel empowered,
to get attention,
to belittle me.

Nothing's changed in him-
pathetic, selfish, ignorant soul that he is.
Nothing's changed in his heart-
or perhaps, lack thereof, the ungrateful boy.

He hasn't grown up,
still self-pitying, still disrespectful,
still resentful, still full of hate-
rotting slowly like a corpse,
a disease among the living-
(those who still have beating hearts-)
smelling more putrid and pungent every day
like sulfurous fumes from the very pits of Hell,
fertilizing the ground, good for nothing else.

Hatred cannot justify hatred, but nor can love excuse it,
for there are some rivers-
so deep, so black, so thick with mud, so caked with dirt,
so polluted with trash, so infected with mosquitoes,
so neglected and abused,
that the sun does not reflect off its shady surface.

The future offers escape- refuge!-
but only if people stop believing the lies,
if people believe what they know,
if people shut out what they're told,
if people refute the lies.

A snake that haunts me, the lies,
cutting off the connections to those I love,
threatening more, threatening my future,
threatening dreams, threatening my life,
trying to strangle the connections to my love.

IDOMAD, 2009