Science.

She’s the queen of scientists;
Synthesis incarnate.
An activist, misanthropist -
Her maw dripping garnet.
Hey ageless skin, a silky lie
An arachnid addiction,
A bulging mass adorns her thigh -
An Internal affliction. 

Her fleshy little spiderlings
Both spawn and slave;
Ripening eggs,
With acid to devour things
She considers grave,
Considers dead. 

She lets them out and bites her lip
As they scratch and chew and feed,
Mine her flesh so they may slip
Through open wounds to breathe and breed.

However, this is all kept hid
Underneath a human net,
A lab coat hides what they forbid:
A leaking chasm to forget. 
And pretty hair bounces lightly
Mimicking any mammal here,
But venom tresses,
So unsightly
It’s screaming danger;
An amatory stranger
With no dripping fangs to fear.