Does she look like she’s got it together?

Does she tell you with her smile she’s okay now?

Do her clothes show you she doesn’t need you?

Hmm, impressions are not always truthful.

See I checked the other day and there she was,

Broke, scarred from all her past independence.

That stubbornness had poisoned her spirit.

She’s not okay, she still is struggling,

to be rid of herself, to be free because she’s bound.

Her hands are worn out; it shows in her bounce, her feet are tied.

Her mind is still running old, waiting for a case of Benjamin Button.

I saw you looking at her from a distance, and I knew you were the one, you cared.

But don’t pass her by with that shy smile; don’t admire her beautiful face from afar.

Look a little closer soldier, her fire is dying.

What was once a beautiful green land is now dry and with no hope left, empty.

I beg you, hold my baby and don’t tell her its okay.

She’s not okay; all she wants is to be somebody’s baby.

She told me, I want to be called child, to be small, plain and soft.

Take her soldier and nurture her with love, that love that is strong as death.

Teach her, and when she makes her mistakes,

Don’t give up or give in to the displeasure of loving her.

Honey, remember she’s bee, not just bae.

Bees sting but there’s their sweetness, stay a little while and you’ll find that sweet thing.

She’s sweet and soft, little as bees are, she’s everything she’s supposed to be.

You can taste that sweetness if you will think of her more.

If you’ll see a baby trapped in an old rugged mind, a mind trying to be renewed

because being born again wasn’t enough.

If you’ll see that Bae is Bee,

She stings but she’s the sweetest,

she needs you to draw it and taste it.









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