In my mind I have a hive
where a million bees live and thrive.
The killer bees have left, they've gone
I have no need, what's done is done.
The honey bees, that now I keep
so sickly sweet, they let me sleep.
The bees and I now live as one,
they'll follow me when I am gone.
Each one of them and from above
a little sting, from me with love.
So sickly sweet into your mind,
memories of me are all you'll find.
So every day that you live on,
equal days that I am gone.
See, suddenly it all made sense,
A life of pain,
Poetry by Kaydee
Often writ in retrospect of memories, a cloudy recollect.