The Apple Tree
An apple tree that
Drops poisoned apples,
Dead before they hit
The ground at your feet.
“That could have been you”,
A whisper wonders,
“If you believed it,
And ate it’s soiled seed.”
The bark cracks up,
Laughing at your doubt,
As you failed to trust
Your source of supplies.
And as the rain pours
It rejects your need
For shelter. When all
You wanted was mutual respect.
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