Снэйп - Сириусу

        * * *

I look at you - the years keep flowing back,
Your glance would like to put me on the rack,
And deep inside your thoughts, like mine, are black...
Who gives you right to be my doomsman, Black?

You want to see my weakness, my regret,
You want to see my fears... Relax. Forget.
I won't give in to you, stray dog, and yet,
You'll draw the anger that you've never met.

You'll draw the hatred that was always there,
And though I'd go pretending I don't care,
You know I'm ready, I shall take your dare,
For there is rancour I can hardly bear.

And yet we know we shouldn't let it lose,
No matter if we fight or hate, abuse,
There's wiser hand that stops us from the bruise
In times, when both of us can be of use.