spider tangled up in your own web of lies
the flies swarm to taunt you-
master of your own demise.
fool in the darkness of your seething belly,
put on that false, crooked smile now,
let the fraying strings lick you on the wind.
cry your hissing laughter-
a mockery of true joy;
dew drops mingle with spit as you splutter curses of hatred.
caged in your own torture device-
and there are holes in your bones.
the icy wind sings through them as the flies' swarm grows larger.
to the west the sun rises on this day of irony
and as a gray dawn envelopes the world,
the eastern moon is blue.