Podcast The Snake

Its scales reflect the evilness
Black, empty eyes do not confess
Its hiss is ironing my foot
I can’t move, I stuck, like a root
This snake that I’m describing now
Is slithering to me, and makes me frown
This time I know it, my death is near
And down my spine go goose bumps of fear
But when I look a bit closer at it
I note, it’s actually a snake of plastic