Arachnid

Creeping, crawling, are they calling?
As they weave from up above
Watching without an ounce of love
Fashioning reams of silk to throw
Soon you’ll meet their fangs of woe
Silent as the air around
Will they ever be seen or found?
Making home in dark corners
Waiting for prey to cross borders
Trapped within the web of lies
Until the spider collects its prize
Cocooning its next meal
Which will be a feast ideal
Then it mends its silk net
Before retiring to place its bet
Ready for the next fool
Which it will devour cruel

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: