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Black Widow

An elegant, spectral silhouette,
With silvery sheens glistening,
Its victim shakes in sweat,
By the venom, a malicious lysin,
As it trickles from the fangs,
Of a widow draped in black
Its victim feels the pangs
From the spiteful attack

Heartless, malevolent, sinister,
Lacking her spouse,
She's quite a vile spinster,
The victim; but a mere mouse,
Compared to her boundless control.
She will sap her victim’s hope
Consume it till it’s an empty soul.
And leave it like a corpse on a tight rope.

The victim tries to fight
But its defiance will be in vain,
It could not simply take off in a flight,
And the widow curls her lips in disdain,
At the fruitless endeavors of existence
The victim tries to gain.
It tries to grasp onto the last threads of existence
But its vigor finally starts to wane.

It will cascade into the welcoming darkness,
It accepts the bidding to a sedative, picturesque starkness.