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