The stings of angry bees
My sister sings silent songs of these.

They sting her ears
when she speaks of them.
A worker-bees wrath complies as
tears of honey fall from her eyes.
Her blossoming mind wilting
while they **** my sister dry.
Wincing with pain,
                                  blinking,
                                                 going insane.

Her broken thoughts keep thinking.

They pull her hair from her head,
nails from her fingers.
Stingers rising from her bed,
that frightened movements triggered.
Turning white sheets to red.

A nest created within her head in which the queen's fed
my sister's dying thoughts.