Understand?

I was the spider, now I'm just a fly, caught in my own construction, the web of destruction.
The blood on my hand, thought it was yours, now I realise, with the knife at my side.
I'm praised for the bruises, a sign I won the fight, Is it really winning? He says I'm sinning.
The glass it smashes. Aren't you so hard. Following your acts of violence I am left in but silence.
My skin boils. Rage at my own art. Was this what I was after, when I hung life by a rafter?
I watch the decay, I'm going down with my ship. My stubbornness, it isn't heroic, I wont take a hand, as this might be my last stand.