I once was the delicate spider
Who wove a web of lies
Using false hopes as a weapon
To capture naive flies
I waited patiently to strike them
in an ambush I’ve devised
so I could hear the many screams
of all the victims I’ve surprised
Then one day my artwork fell
as it was built with cruel intentions
It seems that guile makes a weak foundation
And envy should not breed inventions
And now I’m tangled in my web
Caught in a trap that once was mine
Demolished by my masterpiece
A victim of my own design
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A could poem on the human faults that we all have.