Strings on the Serpent.

She rests,
Craftsmanship at its best,
In the midst of green,
Petals and her skin akin.
Hair as smooth as the satin
On my throne, I never sat in.
Her lips, the essence of every sin.
The goddess of beauty,
The deity of eden.
My venomous form hiss
For this masterpiece of His,
My scaly skin twitch
At her eyes, bewitched.
Oh, temptation,
the cunning b*****d you are,
They say you are my doing,
Their claims so bizarre.
You manipulate the strings
Attached to my horns
Stripped me off my wings
Before my epic fall.
They ridicule, they blame, they shun,
Personify you as me,
Yet me, you beckon.
Stop, treacherous old friend
Piling up black pits to my gospel.
I clench my fangs, as you
Push me to where she dwell.
A pure act of chivalry, charming as I am,
I offer the fruit,
Willing her tongue to taste my adoration
And reduced to a mere brute
By the fear in her eyes.
And her strings too, in your ties.
Cursed forever, to slither and roam
'tween the fires of hell
And the golden gates of Home,
"The lightbringer" they once praised,
Until you embraced.
And now
The darkness in me
Burns brighter.