Creeping, crawling, are they calling?As they weave from up aboveWatching without an ounce of loveFashioning reams of silk to throwSoon you’ll meet their fangs of woeSilent as the air aroundWill they ever be seen or found?Making home in dark cornersWaiting for prey to cross bordersTrapped within the web of liesUntil the spider collects its prizeCocooningContinue reading “Arachnid”
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Simon A Jackson - Writer 