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Humans and Nature

By custosimago, Kensington, MD

Quacks are the hopes that are warped
And forced down the throat of reality
Until reality sets in and someone
Chokes on something that was never
Really there to swallow in the first place.
I am a duck; I quack a lot.

Webs are lies spun from well planned
Manipulations that entice sweet flies
Into their almost hallow grasps
That squeeze what dignity was ever
Left of the happy and naive fliers.
I am a black widow; I spin a lot of webs.

Hives are secluded caves that collect
The honey innocence of whispered
Secrets that are stolen from the

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