There are weaker things than bees
There are weaker things than me
Something small and forgotten
Fell behind the bookcase.
A tiny suicide for the unremembered.
It just slipped itself back an inch
And off the edge
Down into the darkness it already felt
Into the dust of all other old left over
Things. It was silent and slow in its decent
It skidded over the wall careful not to
Catch a corner on the shelves.
When it landed it finally felt relief
For invisibility behind bookcases
Is heaven compared to being forgotten
In plain sight.
~Me
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