I worked a little backwards on this one. Came up with the title first,
then developed around it.

=========================
Silky strands sticking to my skin
Clinging to me, tying me down.
Who is the hunter, Who is the hunted?
I thought I was the former,
But now I'm not so sure.

It is a web of lies
Masked as a web of truth
We all know, but we don't care.
The web spirals in and out-
No real beginning, No real end.

This trap should be easy to avoid,
Glistening as it does
With the early morning moisture.
But, somehow I, the fly
Am unable to avoid it.
I am once again caught
In its sticky embrace
Trembling as the spider crawls towards me.
For I know that this is always my fate.

-GHR

Penned by my hand on the 10th of Aeguary, in the year 412 AF.