The Predator

A web of conspiracy is woven like lace,
like the silken web of a spider. It stays hidden.
As it sits patiently for its prey to come along,
it reveals counterfeit splendor, inviting the young,
the un-wise, the naïve and the careless.
Come, it utters.
Come, it cries.
Come, it screams,
seeing the same ones hesitate in this position they've been in before.
The same ones that don't recognize it
through its whispers and transparent disguise.
It beckons and waits,
motioning for victims to come forward.
To come closer and edge ever so slowly to its visible, and yet, concealed doom.
Then... they're trapped.
It snaps them up and at last,
they remember the warnings.
At last, they remember the dangers.
At last, they have a chance.
But... it's too late and they fall, a moment too soon.
The only thing going through their minds is this sudden knowledge of knowing
that they'll make the same mistake.
That they will, with no doubt, fall again.
This holds on and stays in their thoughts, before the black comes, before the white.
This savored little thought adjoined by the minds of many, destroyed in the past by the seeker.
Then, the predator retreats,
like a ripple on a pond,
here in a second,
departed in a moment.
And the others?
Gone... forever.