Spider - Poem by Arron Fowler
Weave webs of pure delicacy
pump fear into hearts of gigantious size.
For i am a thing of beauty but always get cries
Why all the hate when we leave a legacy.
All of us spiders just want to be loved
Life is a torment when leg count is eight.
One conversation that would be great
Guess i'll go back to my corner where spider is shoved.
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