They’re coming at seven
And this place is a mess.
There are larvae all over the walls.
We’ve not enough pollen
To feed all our guests,
And the queen is asking for my balls.
The workers are striking.
The drones are conversing.
The soldiers are sewing on stripes.
I’ve just about had it
With this dinner party
And all of my coworkers’ gripes.
Thus said the hornet
Who dared to be different.
‘Twas his nature. He didn’t know why.
Later that day
After leaving the nest
He learned that he’d been born a fly.
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OMG…I hate poetry. But I LOVE yours. Why is that? No idea, but I love your writing.
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Amen Aunty Cath! I’m always happy to brighten someone’s day, albeit by these means.
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