Despair is the thing with scales
That slides across our minds,
And chokes out the light of hope from our eyes,
And leaves emptiness,
Emptiness that stretches far;
Down the slippery back of a twisting serpent,
Moving quickly, silently, plotting,
Its only instinct; to infect
It takes as it comes,
Leaving only its menacing shadow,
Shadow in the mind, the heart, and in the soul,
As it slithers along it strips hope from the world.
