Spider

I watch you weave your web of lies,
Embroidered so carefully, yet unconsciously.
You knit the truth beside the false
with hidden hands and invisible needles.
It started innocently enough,
But it grew into something you cannot control.
I love your lies because they’re yours,
But flinch from the seamless net of entangling threads.
Some strings are white and some are black
all part of a habit, a hobby. A vice, a virtue.
I tried to take your loom away.
I desperately attempted to shear your threads.
But you clung to them like life itself.
You cannot see the evil you are fabricating.