Amongst the petals in bloom,

Hidden along the folds,

Sits a garden heirloom.

Flower crab spider, beholds.

Though static she may be,

Her heart still pumps.

Thoughts, instincts, in harmony

All before she jumps.

Roses are her strongholds,

Deceptively beautiful and sweet,

Till flies she holds

Enjoying their tender meat.

And though I watch

To bitter end.

I judge not

My little friend.

For her my thoughts relume

This precious life.

Beautifully it hangs, in doom,

On the edge of a knife.

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Read the backstory for this poem here.