Snake Pit

A penny for your thoughts?
A Nickel for your mind?
I doubt that I could keep good count.
Of the trains I’ve left behind.

These stations are now bare.
These railway sleepers – new.
I doubt that I could let you in.
If you so happen, do you choose.

Me.
It’s quite damn interesting.

That I’m cut into quarters, three sails, 2 waters – Jack of diamonds.
I’m one of a kind.
Yet I can’t hold a strong facade.
When you look in to my eyes.

It seems like it’s entrapment.
Like warm butter run through – a knife.
Like a snake pit of heavy consequences.
Of scaly, sweetened lies.

Don’t bother me again.

Because what does it matter, If my intentions are so clear?
Do I even stand just half a chance, If I seem to always steer?
Towards the right path.

When they tell me.

“You should always choose left.”

And so, I’ve learnt this the long way round.

That these feelings.
Never end.