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Searching for The Door

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Scuttling feet,
A small bug did I meet,
Scuttling along the floor,
In search of The Door.

Following its path,
Smaller than a fly by half.
Following what was given,
Carrying on with living.

About to end its life,
I suddenly met internal strife:
A small creature myself,
Always praying for help.

Although different by name,
Bug and I were same.
Know I am not alone,
Up, high waiting for me is home.

So I lifted my hand,
As He would save Man.
Sparing the creature,
Saved by mere millimeter.

For I trust,
consider this I must.
Were I on the floor,
Searching for The Door.



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