Silky
The spider spins its silky web;
It captures victims by surprise.
With lightening speed it wraps it’s pray;
And slowly drains it’s essence till its dead.
Some woman, like a spider;
Will paint their nails; and spin their tales.
But you think its fun; for you're the one;
That thinks you’ll make them fail
Their silky thighs; their moans and sighs;
Their legs around your waist;
Then its you that’s trapped; in their charms you’re wrapped
And they just might use you with out haste.
Copyright © Leonard Taormina | Year Posted 2006
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