The clock sings on the wall.
Tic tac, tic tac.
The snake is late but can’t decide which skin to use.
She had combined with hers reptile friends to meet in the great baobab tree in the middle of the forest.
The naja continued to experience scale behind scale and none seemed to be ideal.
Tic tac, tic tac.
Time passes and the snake kept changing.
She slid sideways and unwittingly the skin she wore curled into the corner of the mirror and ripped open revealing the pale color of the snake underneath.
The viper tensed as stared at her image in the mirror, she could never show herself that way.
The animals would laugh, the birds would sneer and the wolves would howl with disdain.
Tic tac, tic tac.
The hours flew by and she still didn’t find her ideal skin.
If continued this way she wouldn’t make it in time and once again would lose experiences with her loved ones.
But couldn’t be shown the way she was, the plumage had to be put and the imperfections hidden.
The enigmatic armor of a cruel predator.
Except the snake was nothing like that.
Tic tac, tic tac.
Time had come and she wouldn’t make it.
Once again, the snake would be cloistered in her own prison, inside her skin of white mosaics.
Some say that its color was the junction of various ones, a palette too complex to be observed with bare eyes. However she didn’t care about the words or the mirror.
Tic tac, tic tac.
What the rattlesnake wanted was the approval of the reflection in the eyes of others she couldn’t feel.
