The snake poison

June 1, 2011
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As a clasp my hands together tightly, I can feel the beads of sweat dripping down my crinkled forehead. I close my eyes and open my ears, listening for any sign of life nearby. Heart pounding in unrelenting longing, I feel my body begin to fail my mind. Slowly I unclasp my hands, and attempt to relieve the tense cramped feeling that is radiating throughout my body. As my head slowly turns toward what will certainly be an apocalyptic mistake, I thrust my hot, wanting, hands forward. My hands fumble for the sharp, shiny, object against the will of my mind. I feel as though I am being betrayed by my own flesh, and my mind is fighting back. As much as I attempt to drop the object, I cannot pull myself to stop my seemingly inevitable fate. I re-clench my hands, hoping to build up the tenseness that I had built in the beginning. It was my wall, my cell, my protection from myself. But just like a cell, it can be opened with the just right set of keys. My set of keys, is memories of my tragic mistakes, and failed childhood. My want to become someone I’m not, only to eventually accomplish not knowing who I am at all. My keys were encased in the cell door lock. It was the poison to the snake. A snake bite in itself can cause great harm, but the poison is what summons death. The razor was my snake, and my past was my poison. I feel the snake slowly bite into my flesh causing a short-lived sense of euphoria before the throbbing pain sets in. As the snake bites again and again the poison, finally, sets in. As the blood slowly leaks from my body, I think to myself one final thought.
“Why is it that a snake has to be poisonous”

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