Crows On Apple Trees

Crows on apple trees
At the fruit
Like the hollow emptiness
That gnaws
At my insides.

Who knew that I would feel so lonely?
Why am I not happy?
Gnaw, gnaw,
And the chill wind bites
And I twist and contort myself into different shapes
To try and fit into molds that don’t, and never will
Contain me.

Crows, the crows-
They caw,
And the loneliness gnaws
And the apples all fall and rot and
Turn to mush until they are run over
By semi-trucks and convertibles alike.
Rotten, rotten,
Down to the core.

Rotten, both inside and out-
And there is no remedy.

Crows On Apple Trees

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