I could be oh so sweet
if you'd just taste me.
I am from your tree.
The flesh of my fruit is waiting to be savored.
Do not starve yourself.
I could satiate your hunger.
You're not looking at your neighbor's tree,
so why do you choose to go hungry?
Do not be too rough,
I could easily bruise.
I know my very core is hard,
but, given a little time, it will soften and grow
into something new and beautiful.
I, like the flowers of the field, know that
the point of living is to become.
If you let me fall to the ground
I will rot beneath your feet,
and, yet, my core would still
soften and grow.
It would just grow into something
different,
and, without personal interest,
you would have little influence.
Touch me and feel how
ripe.
Do not waste your chance.
But I will never go to waste.
she is made of cigarettes and magic
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/apples-and-oranges-2/