They stare from the corners of their eyes
Those lusting for more
A desire to reach out and strangle their past
Their spirits writhe, through weakened constitution
Peering deeply, pressing further
Ever deeper, and ever further
All alone, and so afraid
Full of spite, and full of rage
A child’s pain unnoticed
Through one’s will, no one there to offer
The world does reach out
To teach, test, take and give
At you, dear wanderer, a serpent may strike
And despite incremental partaking, it mars
You, all the more odd, and the world ever watching
As you find that no truly lasting venom is delivered…
If love is the palm’s knowing word
© Sayer Teller
Sayer Teller 