Caught in a web


Complexion leaves our bodies
veins become stiff and dry
our abode releases our grip on life
waffling through unknowing sky

how far will the breeze take us?
will our brittle frames rest upon the ground?
eventually we’ll be trampled on
for nothing more than the sound

but as we were descending
some hand got in the way
caught by a silky hammock
where we shall forever lay.

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A metaphor for whatever you get out of this