Wasps

I do not deny the sting from the wasp.
But I refuse to wear its wounds as a scar.

I see the jaggedness through the sharpness,
the smallness behind the bite.
Though venomous, its reveals more of their weakness than my worth.

Still, I find myself moving carefully,
tiptoeing through their prideful field,
guarding their fragile territory
as if they were gems
though they are nothing more than glass.