A fly buzzes and hums a tune, drab and meager
A spider threads and spins a web, ready and eager
The fly gorges on rot and decay
And the spider who preys on bliss
Their paths entangle today
A fate doleful, insignificant and trist
They do what they must do
Merely to survive
If they surrendered to this truth
Neither would be alive
It is time for the fly to fall to deceit
Into the spiralling web, out of sadation
The fly weary, it accepts defeat
It's time spent brought it to a realization
As the spindly legs draw ever near
The fly looks into the mass of eyes without fear
It gives in accepting it's fate
Crippled and consumed by the reality nature had to create
That it and the spider's goals differ but the methods are the same
Feed on the fallen and those without a name
As the spider draws it's toxin, the fly says only this
"We are just abstracts, you and I, paradigms of death's kiss"
To which the spider could only reply
"Unexpected, such a sad fly. So sad that you have to die."
Random poem. But I really felt it. Needs refinement but this is the raw version.
