8- A Freeform Haiku Quartet on Bees and Me

Truth is subjective. Is an orchid a flower, or a bee’s lover?

Is truth mutable? One turns my truth a lie’s nest, and hollows through my soul.

Oblivious truth… one calls me all the uglies. Lies become my truth.

Lies are not my truth. An lover’s still a flower. The bees and I aren’t fooled.

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