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childhood friends
The fruit is ripe, sitting in the tree,
rotting away in a polluted city.
Such a perfect one
doesn't belong in the hands
that crush it and bleed it for juice.
Bruised and bad, doesn't fall...
rotting away in a polluted city.
Such a perfect one
doesn't belong in the hands
that crush it and bleed it for juice.
Bruised and bad, doesn't fall...
