Two headed snake,
Different venoms.
One will bite the other and they will both die.

Who strikes first?
Whose fangs hurts more?
Why even wonder, they'll both expire.

Patterns on them,
Change and clash,
But I predict the older half is the wickeder of the two.

Strike down the young,
Shed away the dead weight.
A deserted bag of hollow skin awaits a new tenet.

What a story to be,
To return to an old husk,
Make myself home again and settle before dusk.