These are his surroundings that seep into his pupils to view the carnage of his home.
The spiders, walk their webs in the darkest corner of his room.
And the jagged edges of his walls cast shadows at night that keep him awake. They force his consciousness to stay at bay as the boy hungers for slumber.
But all is better when the woman smiles to the kids. Telling them that everything is fine, everything is ok.
Young, innocent little boys and girls fall prey to the sight of her smile. To the sight of her warm presence in the jagged doorway.
But I know you see through her. I know you are allergic to her touch of deception, you are an enemy to her brain washing words.
Little boy don't be fooled by her porcelain smile, don't be fooled by her spiderweb weaved hugs. Because I know you see her twisted ways behind her smile.
You know that she does not love you for you. She loves you for the house you gave her, for the perfect lawn, she loves you for the clean dishes you wash with hand and soap. Sweat and blood.
The spiders that walk among you will not spin a Web for your demise. They spin a Web to survive this wretched place like the warrior they are, like you.
The kids cheer for her presence, they cheer for her sweet voice. But you do not cheer, you do not chant her name. You say, "Collect your roses gladiator. Because no orphanage will keep me at bay, I will follow the buzzards. For the buzzards lead me to greatness, I know they do."
ns 15.158.61.8da2
