The Snake's Whispers

[Tiger the Lion]

There's a snake.
It speaks to me
and I pick it up from its place,
beckoning it's fangs to bite into me,
tear flesh and cut through sinew.


It slides it's way up my arm
and I pause,
wanting to feel it's sting
but then I hesitate.


Would the people I love
be happy if the snake were to bite me?
If I let it and they saw the scars
what would they think?
Would they be saddened
that I was hurt?


I go back to the kitchen
and put the snake
back in it's place
and although I crave it,
I can't cave to it.

For me, the penultimate strophe is the weak link and turns an otherwise sharp poem into an after-school special. It's an intrusion as it should be, but needs to be more jarring, sharper, more cutting. That section needs to be a punch in the face, it comes off weak and rushed.