Would you like to come down, said the spider to the fly?

Are you not wearying of your buzzing peregrinations?

Could you not settle down for just a moment?

Will you come into my web of lies?

This enticing parlour of betrayal.

All for a moment of respite.

 

The spirit is willing, but the flesh is invariably weak.

Surrender then, to the inevitable.

Enter my domain of regret,

And be trapped, helpless as a babe,

In this fatal plight of my weaving, and your weakness.

As I approach, you struggle to no avail.

 

Your end is nigh.

 

© 2017 S Phua