I lay under the blanket of night,
Curled around a rock that cuts away at my underbelly,
My eyes blaze crimson,
Full of hate and rage.
I have seen what you do,
When you think no one is around to see your sins.
But, I do.
Because, I see everything.
I see how you crush my babies' skulls underfoot,
little heads poking out of their shells and using their lungs for the first time,
Only to die within seconds.
I groan and hiss,
Wishing I were just a bit bigger,
So I could eat you in retribution for my children.
But I can watch.
I can watch your suffering,
Done by my hand.
I lick my fangs of blood as you weep and cry,
Over your dead wife,
Your poisoned children,
And that ugly mutt you keep around,
As if it could protect you from me.
I thought about killing you too,
I realized that watching you suffer would be so much more entertaining.
You curse the heavens, thinking that it is the gods who have wronged you,
Not a miniscule little serpent whose kin you kill for fun.
And I laugh, a deep, throaty, evil one.
Pleased with my work.