Friday, November 01, 2013

the death toll of the hunted


The spider drops all the way down
The web strings dangling from the ceiling to the floor
The wind blowing makes no difference
The spider knows it has a strong need to survive

On the floor it runs along
Hiding behind potted plants and stands
Playing a game of hide and seek
The spider knows its way

The web strings anchor on designated spots
The small preys will be intercepted...
The web blocks will slowly hold the preys steady
Until the spider returns for its feast

In the distance the missing webs
It looks normal hiding the strings of death
The unweary preys will be trapped
The death toll of web the unweary falls


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