Stripped,
plucked from the chrysalis too soon.
Basal ripped from thorax and
warped within your labyrinth web.
Smothered in magenta.
A flattered muse in the sky.
Walking amongst the angels.
Fresh to deceit like a bumbling lamb, who
relished every word that spewed into the beaten vase.
A new cocoon was on the horizon,
A cage built with sin.
Refusing to immortalise you,
the lamb should never have let you in.