Walked into the grey hive, slowly she did
All eight of her legs, hasty to bid
“A beautiful home, amongst the thick ply
Drink I shall, the nectar of the fly!”

Those were the dreams of a visitor astray
Little Did she know, of the danger that lay
Not from creatures that hunts, for she was one
But a creature that delights, in the suffering of some

On the floor the spider, was a walking dead
For her eyes did see, no danger ahead
But a shadow overcame, from behind her back
With thoughts of hatred, and a Heart just as black

Neither the spider, nor her babies knew
That the end was near, and the hours so few
The spider now moved, as if she sensed the end
But her tiny legs, lacked the speed to defend

Another came upon her, with weight so great
Her little heart now knew, what would be her fate
For those legs obeyed, the command of its master
And she saw it now, her heart raced faster

The leg was well placed, with precision unheard
The death of a spider, is not so absurd
Everyone kills, a pest that invades
The sanctity of a home, that is ours not theirs

The cry was not heard, by the creature which stood
Pride in the action, of the killing he took
A creature lesser than he, does not really deserve
The walls or the roof, neither the straight nor the curve

Her legs twitched, for now she would die
The life that was, is now but a silent cry
The creature looked down, and watched this mime
He went back and stepped on her, one last time