Arachne.

Carrying her sorrows in silken sac,
unwavering whilst weaving wildly.
Under sombre sun and callous cloud,
she spits and hisses, feeling jilted.

Centuries since she's been hopeful,
eight eyes, wide open, filled with wonder.
Mourning every almost happy ending
crushed each time she lost a blessing.

Scarlet letters sealed her fate as a spinster,
wrongfully accused of eating men for dinner.
Society classified her as a sinner,

once jade and emerald, now a black widow.

So she spun her salience armed for battle;
no army could have anticipated her arrival.
Adorned in a coat made of her ex-lovers;
Hell hath no fury like the venom inside her.

Alpha.

I'm the Alpha, the Omega, 
you're played out like Sega.  
Genesis—originator; 
nemesis, you're just a hater. 

Delusional; 
you're no prophet, sis. 
I am opulent, 
you're the opposite.  

Alif Laam Ra, 
When I hit you with the ha; 
Hey Ali Baba,
this is the return of Jafar.

When he does his magic tricks,
just avert your gaze,
before it's too late 
and you're all ablaze.  

This false leader's lies 
end in fiery graves; 
couldn't even lead a pencil 
'cause he's that depraved.  

Ankh ankh, bitch; 
just move out the way—
better save your soul 
before that judgment day.  

You can call upon Ra, 
or even email Anubis, 
no God would save you now, 
but I bet you already knew this.