Vuldranake

I feel so weary.

My eyes are bleary too.

Could this moment get any worse?

Worser, worsest as I spew words,

more than few amount to nothing, and lesser still;



the moment drags with the tick of the tock,

the grind of the mind,

and the shift of a glance from an unwelcome foe.



O' unsymphonious land, run by mute oppressors

whose goal is silence

and harmonious intellectual monotony;

Then crucify me you crone!



I will not obey;

not ever, not today.

Stares to glares, Medusa has her grip.

Circling not once but twice, in flight she dives.



In fear you squeak, in fear you hide.

The serpent's ally, the devil's maid;

in seconds the truth is told;



the books not lost but merely held!

Eyes like slits, and fists a clench.

Passion stirred; and anger brewed.

I but a mouse beneath the breath of fire;

with velocity and  with grace,

I make a dash, and boldly I skitter past.


A chase commence, mouse in lead,

the snake a sibilant slither on the twisted path.

I've met my match, I do not stand a chance.

I make a left, I make a right, FLAMES! the viper strikes.



The venom spreads, like cancer it does not slow.

The end but seconds near,

consciousness a' dim, senses start to fail.

I whisper, the last words I dare to speak.

"Do not underestimate the vile old Vuldranake."