Arachne's Spell
Sleep yon wanderer and weave
your dreams beneath thy spell.
the pleasantries only deceive
the fate that has befell.
Thy webs are woven wondrously
around your weaklings mind.
Your every thought belongs to me,
so leave all things behind.
Within my webs you shall not fight,
accept that you've been caught.
A passing thing shall be the bites
and then you shall feel naught.
Thy minions seek the essence of
life in which they may all dine
feasting from a fountain pulsing blood;
emotions warm like thickened wine.
Hush thy humble human host
and rest eternal in these dreams
fair thee well as restless ghost
spun deep into Arachnae's seams.
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