the "interweb"A Poem by winter;lyra
here where we hide
we built this little pulp fiction of ours soon enough a fly is bound to fall and, to his surprise find himself more at home than at loss but tho comfortable at times, one can never rest that spider is the one unseen but felt demon that one that breeds our evil © 2017 winter;lyra |
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Added on October 28, 2017 Last Updated on October 28, 2017 Author
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