The Sting of People

The snob,  the rage

I see girls with hatchet faces.  And talons and pain of hearing their voices.  

It’s disgrace,  this youth,  they talk with pride and snarl.  And text,  text,  text and when you make yourself known- thy quarrel

All of silence is fulfilling,  I eat it up with honey. 

The bees are even graceful,  with steadfast wings 

and humanity is historical enough. 

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5 thoughts on “The Sting of People

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