The itsy bitsy spider
and the dead girl awaiting
sitting roof top staring down
human flesh a baiting
Eyes like a hawks
to catch her prey
designed for the night
but hurt in the day
With a heart of coal
no room to love
sent here from Hell
she clawed her way above.
YOU ARE READING
Tetraphobia
PoetryPoetry journal of yours truly, and maybe I'll add some short stories. Try not to call the cops on me.
