and from there she fell
into a dark, enclosed cave
where she was a slave.
She was destined to be
something somehow far from free.
Never able to breed,
never crippled by greed.
And still she flies through the air on a
bright, sunny day. As if she has not
a care, she carries on her way.
The velvety silk, of the petal yields
its milk; and it nourishes her flight
as she works until the night.
Giving days away for honey
Trading time for some money
What matters when you die
is that you had a reason why.
Lots of little mouths to feed,
the only reason that she'll need.
To sacrifice her life
and bear all of the strife.
She endures all the pain
of the cold and the rain,
Never knowing if her life is lived in vain.
Yet you'll never hear her cry
or on her deathbed wonder "why?"
She wasn't made or ever trained to complain.
Just another day in the life,
another cut with the knife,
Another drop of blood slowly flows away.
And the sweat and the tears
become one over the years,
And there's nothing left to give at the end...
of the day.
- Billy Craig