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Apr 2020
The spiders glide in night by night,
Following a trail, light by light.

On top of the webs stand the spiders,
Ready to attack all threats with lighters.

A schism of venom to fill the cracks
Of the pieces that have always fit
And a wall is lifted upon their backs;
A webbed foundation of grit.
I know it means a metalworks, but foundry also sounds like a place where foundations are made.
Ayn
Written by
Ayn  20/M/Wherever I May Roam
(20/M/Wherever I May Roam)   
  198
     reignier and wren, ---, ---, ---, karly and 4 others
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