wrote this on the train today

[warnerve7]

Feigning interest in cadavers,
The flies,
They built a home
Where the bees used to thrive
A perfect comb of honey in my skull.
Used to smell that sweet smell
Of evolution everyday,
A community
Working for the smile
Of a single mother
On her death bed.

The day her wings fell to the floor
The comb, it cracked and tore
Her honey turned to gin
And all her babies fled
As the flies, they moved on in.
Where there once was peace and progress
Now there's only sin.