Spiders Poem by Robert Macdonald

Feeling spiders tickle underneath my bed
Taking time to feel the passage of the dead
I wonder why
The crazy people flock to me

I’m a little bit out of control
But I’m doing just fine
Mother nature burn these bridges in my mind
We did our time
We burrowed underneath the roots

You and me come from days of ordinary crimes
I am a feather you dropped like a solid dime
There is a line
That’s come between our restless years

In the face of despair
There always lies a choice
Life is empty but for the
Feeling in your voice
We turn to dust
Past revolutions rock and sway