Did I spin you in my web?
Sometimes I think I am a spider,
Slinking towards my prey while from morality I ebb.
Yes, ever since I entered the era of my deb,
Medusa has availed every attempt of mine to hide her.
Snakes lunge from my head and sink into my victim’s neb.
My poison. It lingers and putrefies each inch of your skin with a bleb.
It is my fault after all, I had lured you in with desire.
But still, I ask, did I spin you in my web?
No, I did not; I am no spider and you are no fly.
It is you who are the beguiler,
You with your grasping fingers and lingering eye.
Even Medusa once was innocent, and her actions did testify.
It was Poseidon who plunged such fatal malice inside her;
He who desecrated her dignity, he who would not shudder at her cry.
You are poison. But still, you exclaim, “I’m a Good Guy.”
It is your fault, you are the deviant, the power-hungry, and the liar.
I am no spider, and you are certainly no fly.
And yet, as the within is vast, I do have space for Hope.
Despite the fear, in goodness and all things right I wish to believe.
I am this way, whether by greater design or a natural way to cope.
In my dreams, I enter into that human kaleidoscope,
Taken into the holy garden of Adam and Eve,
Where the lion may walk with the antelope.
And then I wake and remember every sickening *****.
I remember the consequences of being naïve.
And yet, I do have space for Hope.