A field full of flowers, who will help them grow?
As sweet as a honeycomb, how will it flow?
A bear’s meal and a sticky human’s thrill, a wonder in a world still yet to be revealed; places unseen and yet to be discovered, but what would you do if your kingdom was in trouble?
In a hexagon shape, lost in the human race while glancing at the wonders of space...
Trials and tribulation, mass incarcerations...
A cycle never ending, is the next species in line pending?
Why does the honeybee sting?
Wax for a burning candle sitting on a wooden mantel...
If the queen bee is killed, won’t the colony be left to rebuild...
Will the flowers still grow? Will the sun still shine tomorrow? Will the honey still flow?
Does the buzzer only know?
Is that why the honeybee stings?
How simple of a weapon, like the thorns on a rosebush protecting the beauty of nature...
It’s as simple as writing your defense plans on paper...
I know why the honeybee stings.
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