December 22, 2010

Metaphor Poem

Let me know if you get the metaphor.

Slithering, slimy, sneaky, and cold
he moves in the shadows; unseen.
Clever and cunning
he knows what he wants and how to get it.

Scales slide across the smooth ground
invisible until he shows himself.
Cold and cruel are the means to an end
he conceals his motives from all.

He plays on your fear and hope
hissing in your ear ever so softly.
Yellow eyes, green skin, and porcelin fangs
hypnotize you into his plans.

Once in his trap there's no escape
words hiss out as he delivers a strike.

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