We’re all vipers, our family.
Our outward civility’s a facade, needed to maintain our status.
It’s easier to restrain than lash out at one another.
It’s all the same: Mom attacks Dad, only for him to retaliate.
When I intervene, they holler and threaten me.
I spit back, my harsh words as venomous as their own.
No curses are needed, for pure bitterness paints them already.
I expect us to self-destruct one day.
To tangle and suffocate in our spite.
It’s what we deserve, our natural course.
We are as the ouroboros, only we’ve served as a means to an end.