Ovid Present

Brooklyn, before the sun
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The Serpent

In its face, you will see the serpent.
It preys on you, Your anguish, summoned by fading confidence.
Aware, the power is powerless; it still cripples the will of the outcast.
Time lost, pleasure fades in it feeding, I am so inadequate.
Protect me... protect myself from myself.
It is all I am that it consumes
I should feel this life, just a moment’s glimpse, time with out despair.
It stills, gorging its self on myself
What showed me this, where was it learned, my serpent
Do I invent it or does it exist
I know to slay it, the weapon…me, I am so weak.
Again, I will see the serpent
Again, I will slash at it
Perhaps this time I will let go.
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