A little beetle; black and dark.
Crawling o'er the cherry fruit,
A fruit so plump and fresh,
Such beauty, such aroma.
But with every touch, the brown destruction
Spreading over the crimson happiness.
Gnawing at the gentle skin
Devouring every last drop of nectar.
The mighty flame is needed
For once the beetle has begun,
The fruit meets death.
Life is created, life is ended.
Either the cherry, or the beetle.
#Poet's Note :
It's kinda bizarre and weird! (Like me.)
(Lol)
Thanks for reading! ^_^
