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Cobra King

The Cobra lay where Cobras lie,
a King within his lands.
With hooded head and armored scales
and venom in his fangs.

The Cobra soaked up morning sun,
the nighttime turned to day.
As warmth refreshed his deathly sleep,
he slithered on his way.

A mouse or lizard, bird or frog,
a tasty little treat.
Is what he sought with flashing tongue
that sensed his daily meat.

But not today was fate his friend,
his kingdom under threat.
He rose to meet an enemy
that he had never ate.

For in his way a hillock stood
with soldiers everywhere,
none loyal to our Cobra King
his rules they did not share.

In unison the ants advanced
there’s nothing that they feared,
streaming out from mudded walls
their thin red lines appeared.

His orders hissed from hooded fangs
and poisoned threats declared,
had no effect on their advance
as up his scales they dared.

From inside out they ate the King,
a royal feast enjoyed.
The reign of terror of his kind,
so easily destroyed.

For poison running from your veins
can never defeat all,
the smallest thing, oppressed by power,
can make a kingdom fall.

Ivor G Davies

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