Latrodectus Variolus

The northern black widow, although she’s blond and fierce;

she didn’t kill her mate, although it seems there is no sorrow for his passing;

her venom, much more potent than Charlie Kirk’s own had been,

is poisoning every microphone and every stage she steps upon.

In the name of God, she justifies every attempt to kill,

she’s alone and she’s a dangerous being,

there is no medical treatment for fanaticism and horrific mysticism,

the black widow injects her venom slowly

that even her partisans tell the public to beware.

Like her fallen mate, the widow took his place in the spotlight

gazing at the president and vice-president as her next targets.

What does she look for? Is it forbidden power from God?

Or is it the same greed that fanatics like her desire?

The devil sits next to her, anxious and scared,

she’s eviler than him, like the Latrodectus variolus with its mate,

ready to devour after the final climax.

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