Artificial

You are a fake
Said spider to the fly
Your authentic self
Hides out in your eyes

Show who you are 
To escape this web
Light sorrow and scars
With falsity's ebb

Language you missed
Replied the fly
Staring at bliss
Is my way of sky

Kestrels may screech
As prey they pick up
While flies are the peach
Of dying's sick cup

So please take my life
From out of this air
Webbing's my knife
Your hunger's my care