the beekeeper.

honey farm.

i'll stuff my stomach up with caramelized honey
and the tears of a young boy
who had no clue that i,
the bee keeper,
could breathe out angry insects at any second.

you can try to escape the stingers of my African killers,
but they're the hornets of the bee kingdom,
and they will jab into the hands that held mine
and swell the arms that tried to hug me
until their target is nothing more than a ball of puss and agony.

everyone is allergic to the toxin that i bring,
and though some will claim they are beekeepers as well
and that the venom doesn't affect them in the slightest,
after hours, their tongues puff in their throat
and they choke on their own words.

everyone is allergic to my bees.

and i'm sorry, honey,
that you fell for a queen that had workers ready to assassinate you.