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Rated: E · Poetry · Personal · #1309999
Just an attempt at writing.
Blood ripens in lines, Spread out with a paper cup
Some act surprised, Others do not.
"This is how the worlds work. And oh ain't it just pretty!"
Not so much i thought.

Oh but dont you get it?
Dont you hear that?
That sound of something just over that orange hazy horizon, The air is so damp. Kinda cool for a summers day I thought.
And the cool air blowing out of this tamerin sky makes the bee's and hornets lazy.
They fall to the ground lying on there backs, Alien legs twitching. Waiting to shove there Suicide sting into your foot.
Waiting
Waiting
Waiting.
He had found it. The small drone had been there for an unknown amount of time.
Fate had it that i would be walking barefoot on the cloudy, cool, Summertime evening.
"Kinda cool for a summer day," I thought
I never walk bare foot.
But i did that day,
A buzzing and a brief vibration startled me.
I picked my foot up.
I picked my foot up to late.
The bee was now dieing.
I was stung.
The sun set on that kinda cool summer day.
And I cried
My mother asked me what was wrong
I told her i stepped on a bee
she told me not to walk outside without shoes on again
So now I dont.
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