Widow Maker

Behind you it rises.
Emerging from the crypt.
An E.R. signaling impending danger.
Caught in it's vice grip.
Eight legs cling,
To the heart and sting.
Leaving paralysis.
A day of mourn and sin.
As the moments flash by,
Until the one you are in.
Did you win?
Widow Maker.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback