Oh, you spindley,
ascetic misanthrope,
why do you scuttle about dark
recesses, lurking,
waiting?
Why so withdrawn?
What made you retire
from the company of
your fellow arachnids?
Some would call you antisocial,
even a sociopath,
creeping about,
crawling about on tiptoes,
dispensing your venom
when approached,
hiding in shoes.
Ouch!
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