Web
the srtings of the web
so thin and sticky
holding me in place
look so thin and fragile
yet wont break
hoding me til
the damned
in the lies and hate
Engulfing
me
Web
A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.
Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.
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