These reflecting pearls, the bane of my existence-
Oh so blind to the left and right of squiggly lines like
The pounding of a fly on eardrums- my mind they scour
Flies beating round the hole in my head,
equivalent to the way they fall fate to windows-
Window sills their life long bed-
My windows to the world seem to fall short- failing
Even now in writing this down-
The buzzing bees build their home above my mind and below my throat.