I heard a pretty wasp say that she can be lifted on soft savior skies
( light and blue as her own two eyes!)
high over this impassioned spiny luring world darkened by smoke.
She's more stylish than any butterfly,
whether flying, way up high in her P-39 , or even dying, when it's time,
chased like every roaming goddess will be
into unambiguously male groves
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