I told you before
Never try to dust those corners with your dusting pole.
There will be cobwebs protecting the memories untouched for ages
Once shaken they will March out like spiderlings in thousands
Breaking the big baloon bag
And killing it’s mother.
They will come in search of you
Crawling and itching on your hands legs face and breast
Feeding on you as they do with their mother .
What remain would be
Mere skin that contained
The flesh and blood
When it had a life.
Be careful with your dusting pole
Never to disturb
That gathered dust
It will make you sneeze to death.
Why should you die several deaths
While the the real one
Waits for your time to end?!