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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