King Cobra The Jungle Thug
A deadly sport he plays with all
King Cobra The Jungle Thug
In the emerald depths where shadows cling,
Stirs the jungle’s venomous king.
A coiled assassin, silent, sly,
With piercing gaze and hood held high.
The jungle quakes at his wicked dance,
A hypnotic trance, a deadly stance.
No mercy found in his slitted eyes,
A predator born beneath savage skies.
Scaled armor gleams in the sun’s faint light,
A phantom moving in the cloak of night.
He rules with terror, sharp and cold,
A legend whispered, fierce and bold.
Through tangled vines and sunlit streams,
He hunts by stealth, unseen, it seems.
Yet cross his path and feel the sting,
Of the jungle thug, the serpent king.
But even kings, their reign may cease,
In nature’s cycle, none find peace.
Still, his shadow lingers in the air,
A cobra’s legend, a hunter’s snare
About the Creator
♿ V+ Marie381Uk
Poetry has lived in me since childhood.
Ink spills the feelings words fear to say.
My poems heal, some haunt, all are pieces of me.
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