Black Widow

Black Widow

Black widow
hiding beneath the twilight of her room.
Spinning her web of deceit,
she utters a silent laugh,
echoing in the darkest corners of the day.
She weaves her pattern
of cunning ideals,
Knitting her dreadful story
of birth and death.

She hums a sombre melody,
strumming the devil's mandolin.
Her lonesome eyes stir
voices from the grave,
The lines of sin etched
right onto her face.
As she rocks her chair silently,
Her aching heart waits impatiently
for night to arrive.