She moans and wails a ballad in service of her avarice
Draped in titular projections of status concealing over malice
Like a gem encrusted chalice but holds only poison for the palate
Espousing claims, feels she's owed for her misery must be atoned
Her throne of tangled woe and corpses old of who'd encroached
Black widow trapped in very web she wove, venom grows as she loathes
Ever more potent til better left alone, seeing any who approach as foe
Black widow the architect of the despair of her own as she sews
