If I was a spider
I would spin stained glass skies
And dress in black shadows
spun silver by the moon
Catching drops of the sun
glistening in morning dew
Come now,
come to me
Come dance on silken thread
These fangs are ripe with poison
Come rest your weary head
A black coal heart awaits
Hourglass painted red
and you
ensnared,
in my parlor of pain
I will feast on your blood
And you
will wish
you were dead.
The only one not afraid of me, is the one who weaves the same soliloquy.
This is no Charlotte’s web.
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