I'm like a honey bee-passing my love around from one person to another. People say they want to save me yet the second I come around, they run. People swat me around and smash me. God forbid, I try to stand up for myself, because if I use my stinger then I die. Then again, nobody seems like they would miss me anyway.
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Babies Born Broken
Poetryliving life through my broken brown eyes eyes perceived through my messy words.
