By = Tristan A. Arts
The boa constrictor is wound 'round my neck,
And I find my hands are bound;
I'm tied to a large stone,
My blood to water the ground.
I am gagged and cannot speak,
Awaiting the final blow;
I could escape this situation
If only I could grow.
I know that even if I escaped,
One side of the rock is by a cliff;
And the wolves that guard the other side
Will not wait for me to turn stiff.
~ ~ ~
Originally posted over here. I think it nicely describes how I've been feeling these last few months, and more so as August 31st approaches.