In the deserts of Nevada,
The orange mountains peak high above the ground,
And the the rattlesnakes hide behind the rocks,
Hissing quietly.
They slither around,
To tempt those who cross their territory.
I find the courage walk out to the mountains,
And I hear my boots crush the sand,
Sandstorms violently jerk my loose hair and baggy clothes,
But I am too eager to confront the snakes to go back.
I am hypnotized by the glistening scales on their back.
But I ask them why they hiss and and bite,
Why their venom corrupts those who come in contact with them,
And I beg them to slither away for good.