Weaving webs is her pass-time.
All the secrets, cruelty, lies are what earns her the dime.
Even when she speaks the truth, no one cares.
She was a fool, trapping people in her web, but no one dares
To break away
And seek out the light of day.
Spreading rumours is what he does,
It is only quiet whispers, so what is the fuss?
He did not hurt that girl on purpose
As it was others who devised those schemes
To break her down
Until she could no longer fit into her white gown.
So, what will you be doing tonight?
Is it trying not to bite
Off the head the one you love,
Blaming them for things they've never done?
But, you heard it in the office,
So it had to be the truth that broke the ice
Because it was spoken by the spider you did not recognise.
And what about tomorrow?
When you're leaving to go home with your brow
Furrowed
As the whispers follow you to bed,
Keeping you awake, instead
Of letting you rest so you can make some money for bread.
Next time you hear someone speak,
Question whether their words are too sleek.
Whether the smile they're wearing today
Actually is a mask to keep others at bay.
YOU ARE READING
P-P-P-Poetry
PoetryMy amateur attempts at writing poetry. Don't expect too much, as this is as silly as it can be. Some though, may end up having deep meaning.
