A Spiders Fang
A spiders fang:
The black widow slid across my limbs and torso, dragging her mouth along my beating chest. I feel the burning liquid drip down her fangs as she bites through the thin layer of flesh.
My veins boil and pop as I quickly start to rot. Everything I am lies under my peach colored skin.
My body quickly sends blood to my rapid beating heart as I inhale desperately trying to calm my racing thoughts. But inside I can feel it, My dying soul caused by a spiders fang.
Like a breath of life to a newborn child I rise.
My face showing signs of complete horror, For I know my body has been tainted by the black widow who laid dormant in the shadows.
My vision blurs with massive translucent tears.
She is the aspect of myself I pray wasn’t there, A blood connection that at times isn’t fair and because of this relation parts of my being wither away with depression.
What will be left of me?
Her poison consumes me.
It aches my limbs, numbs my toes, and hults my breathing.
Exsiting is futile.
The black widow has penetrated for one absoulute reason, to kill to wholesome aspect of her own nature.
To her, I am nothing more than a disgusting fly.
Copyright © Whitney Hart | Year Posted 2012
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