The doorstep almost kept them out
But seven Scorpions crept up on it and tried to enter
The blue colours on their backs seemed to glow as they came in
A rolled up newspaper knocked them back must have been the front page
Broken matchbox cars and a faulty time machine now lay at the foot of the step
As I swept it all up one scorpion latched on to my finger
Help came late and left my finger to be bitten
I looked down at a piece of the time machine in my hand
Childhood stings and curious insects doubtful doorsteps
How vulnerable is the one who proposes to protect
Time machine flattened, claws cracked all by life´s depth
Seven imortal Scorpions scurry without direction through a junkyard
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