Bee sting Droning inside a hollow mind Where bee's buzz and sting. Yellow and black fur skin coats hide their painful way of doing things. Wild asylum of gray and red I feel as though I'm dying. Swollen; closed up tight-- I can feel my mind flying. Through my pale blue eyes I see the bees around are swarming. Tears run rampid down my face Mourning, mourning, mourning. As reckless waters flood my sight, I collapse as the bees surround. As my view of light deceases, so does my life.