A serpent whispers through the veils,
In dreams that drift on shadowed sails,
It coils around each silent thought,
With truths undone and lies it brought.

Its voice is sweet, a silver chime,
It ticks like rust inside of time,
It paints the skies in twilight hue,
And turns the red of rose to blue.

A mirror cracked by unseen hands,
Reflections dance on shifting sands,
I drink the doubt it brews in sleep,
A chalice carved in secrets deep.

Each smile I wear is stitched with thread,
From phantom words the serpent said,
It feeds on fears I try to hide—
This poison blooming deep inside.

Oh mind, thy halls once held the light,
Now echoes haunt the edge of night,
Yet still I walk, though torn, confined—
A prisoner of my own design.