Bad Fruit


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Bad fruit

 How would I describe it?

 A shrinking of the soul, not fast like a let go balloon, no,  the fingers still tighten, knuckle white,

It’s more like the pulp of a fruit being revealed after several bites, 

A colourful exterior torn away and when turned over in the hand shows a shrivelled, ugly sight, 

A wrinkled stone, bare and shameful in the light. 

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