Poem -

Cemetery of insects

Many webs the spiders leave,  like little journeys to the cemetery of insects,  had I noticed the dead prior to their existence,  could my love of life have changed their fate, for all things are worth saving,  even things with wings, but im too late, so I trace them to a corner,  place them outside,  as if the barbaric acts of the spiders have no bitterness between what's left alive and dead.

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