Arsenic Ballads

He came to the conclusion

in a profusion of elation

that it was all a delusion

pieces of her crafty illusion.

It was a trap out of proportion

as the spider webbed her lies

around his hapless innocence

crooned sweet arsenic ballads

corralling him in her fenced pen,

prisoner of her wicked wiles.

Drew her evil blade of no tomorrow

across his docile proffered throat

ending what had once been

lilting songs of their beginning.