I was created from a different ilk
from a different type of caterpillar or spider silk
people look at me, and wonder how I am built
but what I offer to them, seems to be, strange milk
some misinterpret me to be on high stilts
or a strange man, from another land, wearing a kilt
I am, myself, with no guilt
will never move, from my foundation, or even tilt
my presence is seen, as the residue of silt
to figure me out, is futile, you won't find nothing! zilch!
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