Sentence Now; Verdict Later.

She was a butterfly,

(A monarch,

Perhaps.)

Wings of golden

Like stained glass

painted in warm

Summer glows.

Tints of black,

Like vines, her dark side,

Curling.

The colours

Intertwining,

Making beauty.



He was a spider,

Fancy, with all those legs,

His arms around

Eight girls

All at once.

He ate them all up

Their being, their happiness.

Until there were

none left.

The spider spunspunpun

With spindly limbs

And a tie around his neck

A web of words

Pretty words

Promising words

Betterlifebettertomorrow

LovenowLoveforever

The web lied

Blinded her,

With a future that

Would never come,

The spider pulled

Her in.

Cradling each wing,

Soft and tantalizing,

Covering the glass,

Curing the black

With words.

And he ate her all up

Whilst whispering

Pretty

Pretty

Words.