Oh Tarantula!

Orphaned by what I’ve become
Fragmented splinters of star-studded plateaus
Bejeweled yet ever bewildered, I am not becoming-
The me I’ve dreamt and I’m not coming home

What method prevails in your connive?
Oh tarantula! How you can decide,
Yet never get tangled in the net you weave,
Deceivingly invisible and visibly deceiving

Pray fortune favors your threaded fortress,
Your mattresses hanging mid-air for food
Shrewdly awaiting an unfortunate evening catch-
You try your best to inspire me

For what it’s worth I’ve learnt nothing so far,
For the webs I weave intend to devour me
For you’re no ordinary arachnid - oh tarantula!
For I’m no descendant of no Scottish king.



This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.