Circle the wagons,

My helix is undoing itself.  I am raveling,



I feel thinner, down to one strand, unwinding.

My code is is exposed, vulnerable, out there.

The zipper of me is down, you see.

I am marshaling my forces, calling for reinforcements, like I said,

circling the wagons.

But the riders never come.  No attack.  Just me and my wagons, vigilant,

looking out over a wind swept plain and not a threat in sight.

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