like a hungry snake whose meal escaped its fate.
I am the hunted vermin who found solace in the crooked vines,
and your crooked smile brings a peace when the hour is late.
The blackened sod beneath me writhes and yearns,
like a half-born child whose lungs have yet to taste the air.
I am the suffocated who found breath in a steady breeze,
and your steady hand brings warmth to a soul stripped bare.
(c) Mel Muscarella 01/09 (so don't steal my stuff, k?)
*No chorus and I haven't yet rhymed either "yearns" or "breeze" though I'm leaning on keeping "breeze".