Worker Bees

Stepping light as cotton
Memories are not forgotten.

Days full of sorrow
No relief for the morrow.

Trying to get a grip
From the coolness that i sip

This air is putrid and thick
Its an exhausting trip.

Not one glance can pass by
All the tears are now dry.

Never bored are
the worker bees.

Dreams dont catch 'em
fast asleep.

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