A black spider with a skull motif
a warning to all who see
spins a web of ivory strands
where her victims inevitably land

Like a puppet pulled by strings
closer to the marionnete, her venom stings
drainining of all life essence
like a vampire, pale and fluorescent

How many has she claimed?
to feed an ego which can't be sustained
now recessing to the shadows in a fell mood
perhaps to bring forth a new brood

Which form shall it take now?
a sweet innocent hiding something foul
or a damsel in distress in disguise
anything to fool the eyes

So keep your wits about you
and don't play the fool
because this poem is not mere fiction
It can happen to you too

Penned by my hand on the 5th of Daedalan, in the year 757 AF.