I am a little worker bee,
Who fumbles while she works,
And bears the weight of her duty,
Until her wings are hurt.

Her house thinks her a stranger,
Her uniforms a smile,
She doesn’t see the danger,
While she walks the extra mile.

Her eyes are purple ivory,
As her night knows little sleep,
Though her stomach may be empty,
She cannot seem to eat.

She knows that she is dying,
But still she carries on,
And her wings will keep on flying,
Long after she is gone.