A Snakes Tale

I have a last name

that bore me pain

so I don't use it much

except for necessary things

I use to think

that it was a good name

until it turned into

devilish wicked things

I stood in a circle

of hail like an ouroboros

biting his tail

awaken by the sound

of a stone hitting

the bottom of a well

the rotting corpse

I can still smell

deep in the mist

of closing in walls

who was I going to tell

I was just as crooked

as the crack in the

Liberty Bell

like a glass that

did not break when it fell

secrets bound and  tossed

into wishing wells

something smells

 in garbage pales

though this may rhyme

it is not a tale

the reason I  made

my name hard to tell

wouldn't you if the devil

had a plot with your name

written on it in hell