The Widow

The internal driver Was the spider That lived inside her She always called herself a fighter Until the Widow had to bite her Now she sleeps on the streets Between thin, filthy sheets Somehow she keeps peace Down deep she thinks at least "I had my day in the Sun" The same day that some Try to run from But she can't see what she's become After years she's grown numb Of being so stunned By her picture in the puddle Trouble covered her face So slow and so subtle As she cuddles and cowers in the rain Burdened by the pain Of the Spider that lives inside her