Fall

The pit was a core never seen

A treasure forsaken

Value forseen by one alone

Strange and powerful in its own demise

A ripe fruit, ready to be picked and eaten

Ah, but there is more

A civil war rages beneath its fuzzy skin

Treatening to rot its honey

All the while examined closely

For flaws, for taste

Pricked by uncertainty and greif

Fermenting the succulent juices

To be left alone

A combination of self-relainace and pity

Rises up against the battle

Ah, the independant honeysuckle

Craving a bite of its own

Growing with fervor, with pride

With open eyes, with secret smile

Watching its decay take place

Knowing the outcome of the rotten core

Deception redefined

By the sweetest fruit

Becoming the sickest candy

Treasure unknown

Glory unrivaled

Offending mother nature

With its outstretched temptations

Ah, coming back to Eve's garden

And we see the angel of death approaching

Ready to pluck for the sacrifice

And the decomposing flower stretches its leaves up higher than the rest

Pulling its pistil up

To be noticed in its last glorious breath

And then falls...

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