Honey bees nip at my knees,
which causes me to freeze.
Oh, why me?
You could have chosen anyone, little bee.
Honey bees nip at my knees,
which causes me to freeze.
Oh, why me?
You could have chosen anyone, little bee.
Altruism is often anglicized,
prophesied, to be proof of someone's halo.
To put someone else's needs before yourself,
must be proof of someone's moral health.
It’s dark, where I am. Not cold, for cold gives you solace. Not hot, as in a hammer striking molten iron to make a sword. Not warm, pointlessly and deliberately harsh and itchy.
"Who are you?" It cooed.
Its eyes behind my back
spoke to the intent of its curiosity,
something brushed against my hand
in a low yet dangerous level of ferocity.
"Who are you?" I demanded.
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