Here lies my twisted fate
Beneath the web I’ve spun
though I fear too late
might it never come undone.
His hands are spiders feet
they brush past unstuck.
and to my own defeat
it could be I’m out of luck.
It seems I’ve caught a fly,
a pathetic thing indeed
His eyes reflect the sky
But the sky he cannot see.
Sometimes in the early fair
the dew drops all aline
floating in the crisp morn air
They take away the sight
He’s wrapped in silky blankets
but his life hangs by a thread
Once my handsome spider comes
I fear he will be dead.
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