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bee

by Andrew S Adams

sting the ceiling now, friendly bee.
await the rain that falls, cries with my desparation
and attack. let your venom replace the drops,
let the hope sting with your every death.
i catch my reflection as one of these droplets
passes me by. i am not a dreamer, i am
a realist with issues. i am not an pragmatist;
i am an optimist willing to accept my own flaws.
the solutions never add up to the answer,
but everything sounds good, right?
well, if you try and tell yourself that we can beat this
i will tell you to ignore the constant venom.

every flight past me, a friendly sting
a smile across your face.

and up to now, nothing has made any sense,
as i never would expect you to.
but i am shocked at myself, this is
my own failure, failure to convey
that i am losing you, and this sting
is constant. this bite is a fleshwound,
bitten straight through whatever emotion
i can put into words.
and i am not an optimist,
i am the bee. and you should
be thankful that i chose to sting the rain
than cause you all of my own direct pain.
defenses are at an alltime high.

07/10/2003

Author's Note: i realize this lacks anything coherrant; sorry;

Posted on 07/11/2003
Copyright © 2024 Andrew S Adams

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Cymbre Dolphay on 07/12/03 at 12:18 AM

and who said any of us didn't like incoherrance?

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