At times
It seems I'm
A mechanical spider
Hanging in suspense
Aware of my prey
Motionless
Then there are times
I'm a disheveled mess
And I honestly don't know which
Is best
Monster or weakling
Which would you choose
If the choice belonged to you?
Human and frail
Or a heartless master?
No need to make the decision now
Delay delay, dissociate from today
Is frail the choice then?
Perhaps so
Ambition is destruction
Wrapped in a bow
But human is weak
And weakness is death
Monsters are death extroverted
The choice is hardly a choice at all
"Learned helplessness"
Is what they'll call this
As they dine on the fins of an otter
"The third way liberates my friend"
As they watch a lamb
being thrown to slaughter
It's clear the choice they've made
They chose to call a spider a flower
In that regard,
Choice number three
Is not the choice for me
If I'm to dine, let me be honest
With my prey
Let me be obvious
It's hardly an atonement
Extinction is the price
For there's no greater cruelty
Than being nice
With those who soon you'll devour
YOU ARE READING
Disintegration of the Muse
PoetryTrying to show my more serious side I suppose. I've written many poems over the years, thought it would be fun to share.
