She can walk
Eight steps at a time.
She can create
The most beautiful webs.
She is a wonder, a beauty,
But only to her own kind.
She disgusts children
Eight times more than a snake.
Children -- so innocent --
So disgusted of her, step on her.
Now, she is not pretty anymore.
Now she cannot walk
Or create beautiful webs.
It is her destiny, perhaps,
That children will never like her.
But if she is so pretty -- so nice --
Can she love and be loved
Before she dies?
Poetry / Feelings