Death of a Scorpion

The ripples in the water grow,
like manipulated heart beats.
The healing glow of the sun,
not ready to admit defeat.

The life streams fluctuate, 
as the toxin takes hold.
The lights begin to fade,
amativeness has been weighed.

Simple amity became painful,
but adoration remained.
Yearning for unknown mysteries,
an internal struggle strained.

Now came a difference, 
bolder and vernal.
To grasp with unknown faculty,
to look for something tangibly?

Obscure melancholy trickles down,
helpless and subjective to forewarning.
The needle positioned and slipped,
euthanasia comes without squirming.

Visions of serenity and peace,
fade with calming ripples. 
Kindled anticipation begins,
to be in the eye of the virgin.