I have posted a good amount about poetry before so Iāll just leave a recent favorite
āI was barely six years old when I saw the snake,
probably younger than the snake.
It was startled and moved in a flash
to the middle of the road as I trimmed the grass.
To this day I remember how it panicked,
and for the first time I understood the meaning of fate:
life began, life frightened me.
As my sickle knife slowly became rusted,
the snake shed itās skin, a dry-out shell with the old markings on,
which scared me and sent me fleeing, temporarily losing my dignity.
Now, I already amass enough venom,
but am still afraid. If the snake comes
hissing at me with its long, forked tongue,
I still wouldnāt know what to do.ā
