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A Worker Bee on His Way Home

A droning sound  
That drills
Into my psyche,  
Bores its way  
Through layer after layer of  
Carefully built drywall,  
To build a nest
That it resides in
The same folds I used to hide in.
And when it begins to strike,
And tear and punish,
That's when I fall to my knees,
Hold myself,  
And cry for the end.
unnifaomsl
Written by unnifaomsl
Published
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