Eight creepy legs,

Nests made up of webbing,

Prickly, pointy, and hairy,

Creatures obsessed with shedding.

Perhaps you want to run,

But no one can escape

A spider on the doorstep,

Blocking every way.

Yet also on this doorstep,

Not just a spider is there,

With it is a dark empty box,

And a silent warning of beware.

It can hardly even be seen

From where you stand behind the door.

Yet something draws you closer,

To peek and learn what's more.

You wish this would all just stop

So that you can get to bed,

But things on your doorstep

Keep running through your head.

It's scary, even frightening,

The things that can't be seen.

Even those things that can

Have their own mystery.

The future is uncertain,

For you and creatures unseen,

Don't be afraid of the dark,

You just don't know what it means.

There's a labyrinth in your head,

But once it can be subued,

Go and explore it there,

And see what it will tell you.

The aisles are lined with bottles,

With a flash they all disappear.

Maybe they're trying to tell you

Spiders are not the creatures you fear.