I've never been so sick as when I do not understand.
Evidence is of no value to you.
I don't care much for my thoughts so I'll bury them in sand,
And they'll be part of the raging sea,
So blue.

And if we were to separate,
It'd be like splintering wood,
With my hate sprouting flowers as in Spring.

And while the bee may seem so lovely as a part of nature's plan,
It also tends to pack a nasty sting.