Delicate finger trace Her legs
Silver eyes trail up Her webs
The Spider of Miss Anodyne sits completely still
In the corner of the room as She writes Her will
The stars always molded under Her command
Shining, sparkling, twisting into things from beyond this land
As the Spider of Miss Anodyne watches Her still
In the corner of the room as She writes out Her will
As the Lord of the Two Perpetual Hands approaches
The writing becomes slower
The hands become colder
The will becomes older
The Spider of Miss Anodyne watches Her rot away in decay
Sitting in Her wooden chair as He comes to take her away
And as the Spider spins their web
They hear the church bells and crues of panic ring out - 'The Lady, Miss Anodyne, is Dead'.
YOU ARE READING
Reddose's: Poetry
RandomHi it's reddose with some discarded poetry. Edgy? Probably.
