From Under the Street Lamp
His eyes find mine,
And I have nowhere to hide.
I’m stuck, sitting in a corner,
As he interrogates my existence here.
I’m like a moth stuck in his spider’s web.
My stomach is turning,
And I’m questioning why I’m here
in the back of my head.
My wings flutter frantically,
As eight legs move his fangs closer.
I stutter out words,
Unsure of the effect they have on my listener.
Isn’t there a hole I can crawl in?
Fangs sink into my flesh,
Sucking out emotion until I’m a vacant corpse
Just hanging in the spider’s web.
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