Spider

His hardened skin, of twisted hate,
His legs click down the hall,
With his eyes he has of eight,
He watches you and all.

On the ceiling, on the floor,
He stirs the fears of man,
Who often on a fated meet,
Turned their tail and ran.

This little harmless insect,
The mind is scared to think,
Of clicking claws, and deadly poison,
And the skin as black as ink.

Until a bravened heart,
With a glass or cup to hand,
Scoops the little monster,
And throws him on your land.

*I would like to say. . . I am NOT scared of spiders. . . lol*