"I'm sorry, snake..."

I’m sorry, snake. Though it is useless now,

I cannot offer you your life back. In return,

you, too, cannot absolve me, but, somehow,

I feel compelled to tell you: lesson learned.

Your primal instinct was to turn and flee.

My killer instinct was to give you chase.

Of course, I knew, you posed no threat to me,

but something told me: “Do it, just in case.

You have a child and the snake will grow,”

and other nonsense, much along those lines.

What troubles me the most is that I know

the devil’s voice now. And that voice is mine.

I never knew my aptitude to hurt

from the irrational, complete and utter terror,

until that day I chose to kill and to subvert

the rule of innocence. The ending of an era.

I know I’m guilty. I don’t seek a pardon.

Accept this merely as confession, snake.

I’m sorry, snake. Thus Adam left the garden

with something small that wasn’t his to take.