Slip, over moss and leaves,

Over the land that breathes,

I am the Serpent,

Thousands of lives spent,

Chasing you and chasing more,
Chasing my prey until I am beyond sore,

Clutching your insides,

Make you dread  as the Serpent writhes,

Slaughtering infants,

Causing rants,

I am the Serpent,

From the bowels of HELL sent.


This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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