SNAKE

Where's compassion, understanding?
The thoughtful help, hold-handing?
Where's the love and sharing?
Where's the time and caring?

Commentary:

So you’re a wimp, but a nice wimp. A kind-hearted wimp. And you take on the problems of the world. You worry for England. So you go into therapy and what happens? You become a better person, stronger, more self assured. But those changes for the better bring changes that are uncomfortable to the person you think you are. Thinking about the changes makes you think of chameleons no, not quite the same; they change to suit their surroundings. Then thoughts of snakes came to mind; of the way they slither and shed their skin. Just like you’re doing. Do they feel the strangeness of it? Do they yearn for the old skin, or parts of it? They’re thought of as slimy and slippery; evil and dangerous.

The shape of the poem ("I’m changing Rearranging" and "I’m losing Body’s oozing") illustrates the slithering and wriggling of the snake, but also stresses the lines and words.

The wriggling of the snake is pretty much how you squirm under this new person, the harder person, you’re becoming.

You were a soft touch, a good neighbour and friend. But now you’re looking out for you, not always there for these other people. They’d got used to that. You’d got used to worrying about them and how they were coping, what you should be doing for them - not that they’d tell you if you could stop worrying because they’d sorted themselves out. Now: if they talk you listen, but you don’t carry their problems around as your baggage, you leave it with them. You still care, but not enough for the old you to feel comfortable with - you’re becoming just like everyone else.

Actually, this is much more comfortable and easier to bear. But who’ll do the caring if you don’t? Still the dichotomy.

"I can feel it taking over, It’s no longer my sweet lover" you liked the change at first, but are you now losing control of how much you’re changing?

"Pushing and pulling". Everyone has an opinion, who do you listen to and trust?

"The selfish slithering is on…". The changes feel like you’re becoming so selfish, it makes you quiver with the power and fear of it, while it slithers along in your body.

"Where’s compassion…..". Where’s the person you were?

Last two lines: in different voice, dull, dark, stern.
It’s over, final, the end of the old you. Is this me?