A Poem: Strangled

Image: @jev55

Through the hissing of this snake

coiled around my neck,

I hear Satan’s whisper.

The Serpent tempted me,

drawing me toward the forbidden:

Its fruit looked delicious.

I couldn’t resist.

I bit it,

penetrating its delicate skin,

my teeth like daggers

consuming its purity:

An eye-opening feat.

And now, day after day,

I continue to lavish in the one thing

I’m not supposed to.

But I need it:

To get by,

to live.

And to survive.

I became addicted to the sweet taste of sin,

all because of the Serpent

luring me away from life and light

and into a world of fear and darkness,

where that sweet, delicious fruit

now tastes tart when it touches my tongue.

I’m addicted to the bitter taste of sin,

all because of Satan’s whispers in my ear.

It causes me to cringe

and sends chills down my spine,

like the touch of the cold, scaly body of that snake

against the skin on my neck,

tightening its hold on me:

Constricting.

Strangling.

Suffocating.

Taking control.

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