Poision

When someone gives you an apple,
You wonder if it’s poisoned,
And when you ask if it is,
And he tells you it’s not,
You still ask him to take the first bite;
Calling it lies.
A tear falls from his eyes,
As you watch him take the first bite;
Waiting for him to fall and die.
He offers back the apple, with pain in his eyes;
Wishing you’d believe he’s not telling lies,
But you take it and toss it aside.
He lives, he survives;
The apple isn’t poisoned,
It’s your heart, filled with venom
Killing him slowly without even,
Taking a bite.

 

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