Poor little crippled spider
Dragging along across my desk
Painfully slow, one leg crushed.
You don't deserve this ill condition
****** down upon your tiny body.
Little spider, desperately jerking,
Fighting for life, losing the battle,
I'll tell you now, simply, I hope.
It is because of deeds like this
That man is marked for long, dark days.
For it was I who smashed you hard
And took away your chance for life.
Yes, I, ensnared in arrogance blind,
Despising your trek across my desk
And thinking only of myself,
Fearing the moment when you
Perhaps would crawl across to me.

**! You wiggle once more,
Feebly, desperately. What right
Have I, a human only, to
**** you thus? None, I say.
I have none. Oh, to turn
The tables only once and give
To you the strange and murky power
That we regard as splendid.
Yes! Give to you and your kin
The chance to wreck a vengeance proper
Upon the callous'd head of man.
We deserve it, little one,
For we are naught be far-removed
Extensions of yourself
And cannot justify such acts
Of cruel, vain, and fiendish ******.

Look! On your back you lie.
Your legs, only six or seven now,
Are curled across your belly soft.
What thoughts run through your tiny head?
Do you pray? But no, you have
No need for prayer. Never have
You left the bright and glorious
Kingdom of God. Born you were
In innocence fair, and lived
You did in that same virtue.
And now you die, and not once
Did fear of doom, darkness, and eternal
Death weigh upon your taintless life.
'Tis I who fear eternal death
For I have killed you, little spider.
Killed you out of fear and horror,
Ignorance and arrogance and black disgust.

Live on, Little Spider, and live well!
Forgive me of my ***** deed
That I might forgive myself
And treat with kindness and respect
Your tiny cousin trekking now
Across my desk in search of you.