The Hive

He could always hear them

buzzing all around

like bees in a hive

stuck inside his head

 

He could never stop them

even if he tried

their sticky gooey nectar

keeps him paralyzed

 

Sweet as they may be

his future is but sour

doomed to always be

their king without a throne

 

Tainted lusty stingers

make no sence at all

in this busy intersection

he'll always be alone

Reviews

[Kerry]

This poem is a lovely take on "the voices in our heads." Regardless of how much psycho babble we have going on up there, this is a reminder of the "sting" of loneliness. Very nice!