Nagini
I've always been a serpentine servant.
Born in captivity, I slugged purposelessly around my cell,
Hearing stifled voices, shamelessly assessing,
Tasting the same, insipid air, incessantly stifling,
Seeing sardonic tongues flicking hisses at me.
I escaped through vanishing glass
And sought solace under the scales of the forest,
Salivating over eggs, fresh mice and all things nice.
Full stretch I should slither, no coil restraining.
My sovereignty was seductive, satisfying… short-lived.
He was small and spindly, pale as snow,
In the arms of a rat-like man. His slits for pupils
Mirrored my own and so spellbound, he started to misuse me.
He spoke my tongue, supervised my snaking;
I was serpentine servant once more.
He slew, I slayed, we had slain,
Starved, I was forced to swallow the soulless carcasses.
Soon, with a sinful curse, he settled his soul within me;
Split, separated, shredded, shattered, shed of skin.
We became as one, a solitary sliding muscle; his mind, my body.
Strength upon strength, he was reborn
They regrouped, he rejoiced - I recoiled.
Empty of choice, of substance, of sway - empty of life.
We battled and I saw his fury in our eyes,
As slave, I strained our neck to strike.