Ms. Naive and the Individual

It will happen, my dear
The tearing of flesh
From your out-puffed chest
My dear, it will.

But should you choose, my dear
the fork and spoon
Over I? Go ahead -
My dear, you shall. 

Why do you run, my dear
away from the bees?
The stigmas they carry on their fuzzy backs
My dear, their fuzzy consciences

Why must I leave, my dear
away to whichever fandom is next
Never staying long - not ever
My darling, your winds are raging.