Queen Bee she never wanted to be: she was a mass of contradictions, a curious amalgam of supreme confidence and deep insecurities – a wounded eagle as capable and likely to soar high in the sky as crash down in a flurry of golden feathers.
Yet that crown was given to her time and time again, she was put on that pedestal but she wanted nothing more than to climb down – except they wouldn’t let her. In fits of frustration she would sometimes swat an especially vexatious part of the swarm but her efforts, although spirited, were in vain.
She was never left alone, they surrounded her, drained her of all her vital powers, she took on their anxiety, their hurt – their need smothered her; they drove her insane but she was never allowed to escape, they were the moths, she was the flame – they had chosen her, for better and for worse, she was: their reluctant Queen Bee.
Image credit: unripehamadryad.deviantart.com