Cobra- a Group Writing Assignment

Dear child, dear you:

Grown from a mellifluous poison.
How strong you were on the trapeze…
turning, twisting, suspended for so long
above the cavern of your inevitable demise.

Remember your disguise?
And the glass scintillating and splintering
on your bedroom door?

Combat.

Like a serpent weaving through a
labryinth of a marred childhood.
This saurian idol has wrapped
its black, cold form around
your ankles, your knees, your own tongue.

Its venom filters through your marrow;
like his, like hers, like ours.

Dear child:

You are your golden snake.

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