Noise.

Never ending buzz in my ear.

Humming.

Purring.

Whispering.

A dull ache in my head.

A relentless wave of dread.

Then they grow indignant.

Flashes of black and yellow pigment.

They grow deafening.

Blaring.

Ear-piercing.

They beg me to  function,

To take action.

I want to earn their satisfaction,

To elicit a positive reaction.

But I can't will myself to motion.

Why should I tire when all that's left is an imperfect fraction?

Everything has become a casualty to destruction.

The wasp has stung,

There's no more future for the young,

And I am now forever wrung.

Now they become desperate,

They refuse to accept it.

Fine, if I won't act, they will.

Even if the wasp came in for the kill,

They refuse to swallow thy pill.

Their resistance is inspiring.

The buzzing builds -- everything's spiralling.

I can merely witness what's transpiring.

I can sense their gazes judging,

I wish I could rally behind their battling.

But they don't see that I'm struggling.

All they see is sickening,

Disgusting lethargy.

The bees get to work,

While I feel like the biggest jerk.

I am left in the dirt.

I, the once almighty,

Now headless queen bee.

- LénaCs