March 30th.

Like snakes who glide

You slide into another skin, 

Impersonating next of kin, 

Charming the charmed with something to believe in. 

 

But quickly the skin sheds, 

On the mend; but all that is left is 

Hundreds of little scaled dreams, 

That seemed real, but were simply theft. 

 

Your charming left the charmed, 

Nothing but unarmed against your skin, 

With dreams she wanted to believe in.