she was quite the widow spider,
creeping and swimming through bloody webs
she loved the sight of everything falling apart
from the mightiest warrior to barely alive
men feared her power, a dark force
their eyes watched as they cowered in corners
oh, but she still found them
and drained them of their life, their pride
as she knows all too well what dignity can do
yet, as she scales the walls and clears the dust,
there's one thing she will always fear
an innocent being burning redder than blood
yet it sickened her with its heavenly aroma
a curious beast that calls itself love
YOU ARE READING
What's Wrong
Poetrysome of these might not make sense but trust me neither does my mind
