Teddy Dondanville

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Sometimes I sit and wonder. What it’d be like to be a bug. To spend all day, Crawling or perhaps flying.   Incessantly searching for, Whatever it is they need. Food? Water? Why even bother?   Then, I realize not much is different. Between me, And a little bug. Our search coincides, Around that which is inside.   Their world, my world. Both revolve around the same thing. One tiny life except… Read More