“All opinions are that of the author and not necessarily those of the website that it is published under.”

And there was not a sound nor a spark,
Just a boat headed towards the watermark
And like a chain we stuck together in the dark
And were thrust into an ocean by the violent bark.

In this humiliating regression, we glided like silkworms
To a different shore, welcomed like germs
And we, who used to fly like butterflies and birds
Were now clustered in a tight controlled herd.

An abject spider, sat on a tree he made his own
He thought he was bright and was born to glow
He spat and giggled at the tired looking row,
And took our silk, and with it a web he did sow.

He had one eye barely open and most likely blind
And as we tried to explain the story behind
This unfortunate exile that led us to this line.
He twirled us and tied us in his silkwoven lines.

And if only he could feel and see
The pulse of the heart, the life within me,
To know that I am not a corpse to pity,
That I used to fly on the other side of the sea.

“All opinions are that of the author and not necessarily those of the website that it is published under.”