A snake writhing in the grass jays pecking at your thoughts begging for a glance. You lost to the chase and gave way to the mimicking of the twisted mocking-jay. A snake in the grave lost his way to the might and madness of an evil not seen but felt. It laid waste to the land and gambled the sky for a fleeting chance to wear the crown, bejeweled by fools who gold-dug at his skull. Mind, eyes, popping for more, more, more. A snake writhing in the grass jays pecking at your thoughts begging for another chance, lost to an evil not seen but felt.