The flytrap's is the way of life
We're cashing in on our own strife
for surely must the candle burn
and we must too, when ours is the turn
and ours, indeed, too often comes
when one won't move and the other runs
It hits us when we're most unnerved
and fairness, though, is seldom served
for our fears dress in linen whims
embroidered with the holy hymns
and monstrous in the dark become
heard by none, and seen by none
Then where to must the fawn elope
from beasts of prey and hurtful hope?
and what becomes of the righteous deeds
if one must bite the hand that feeds?
For questions or for indemnity,
the tale must serve but one of these.
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