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Apr 2020
My conciseness was a seed of spider threads,
             and when an idea birthed like a
sack of baby arachnids.

Crawling within,  
  consuming my every introspection.

I slumped over the page, they crawled forth,
           tiny metaphors continuing after
   my musing was consumed within..
Poetic T
Written by
Poetic T  On Oblivions Doorstep
(On Oblivions Doorstep)   
398
 
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