The serpent tale
By RibbonHeart
A curious mind is a dangerous thing, when the world is weak and ripe.
A simple lie can a life change bring, when the serpent has a life.
Within this torment a heinous crime will hide underneath the veils
And never will the young boy rise, buried with his wails.
You see the serpent, cunning, calm. A show he had begun,
But
little did our serpent know the tragedy already done.
A twisted
lie, an unbelievable truth, our imposter did excel,
And never did
his façade slip; he played the young boy well.
So people came
and people went and unspeakably believed,
The claims of torture
and abuse, of cruel and heartless things.
Until one day our
serpent man’s curiosity did grow,
Where was this boy I have become?
Does anybody know?
Day by day he failed his claims, brazen,
to be sure,
But every day the family claimed “I know this is
our boy”
But the serpent man was smart; he collected all
the clues,
They know that I am not the boy, the boy has been disused!
A frightened shock ran down the spine, a game he thought he’d
won,
His act here had come to an end, while the story had just
begun.
Author's Note:
I wrote this poem after watching the documentary film about Frederic Bourdin called 'The Imposter'Comments on "The serpent tale"
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On Monday, February 11, 2013, FadedBlues
(2096) wrote:
...this is fascinating in its mere prelude to what must be the full story. nicely written & glad you could visit again...