So there was this Apple, see?

Some sneaky Snake of malformed logic.
These twisted forms of fate.
Smirking little ass wipes.
Always out to take.
Every little holdout.
Of Love or Hope or Hate.
And the world just slips further.
As the seers do their shakes.
Cause some hurt and shiny Snake.
Can’t see past today.
And the needed interactions.
Never what you want.
But sniffing around the edges.
Anticipating a new fold.
To fully finally embrace.
Them that need the holding.
Even if a Snake.
Go boy,
Slither.