Amelia Robinson

Sloppy, slimy, sly,
you made me cry. You're a snake, sick.
I sigh,
the sumptuousness,
such a charade.
Perhaps I am paranoid but
you sipped from the golden cup, at my hand.
The sun was only a light there to blind me,
from the treachery, the schemes.
I gave you supper
,

and you slit my throat with your spoon.
Sit down! listen to the sound,
my scream, the scene.
Someday, somehow, somewhere,
I will sneak up on you,
shy as a deer, a distraction before the sleep,
what a sheep.