The Silent Whisper

Red Apple

Red Apple

The apple was in my hand 

It was surely made of thorns dearly

I said that I thought that only roses

Can prick a broken fate.

But I didn't know that an apple

Can surely betrayed a roses thorn 

As red of tinted poison

Of snow white gift.

Don't dare to take a bite 

You can surely taste the fright

Of drowning in the ponds of tears 

with the cloak of betrayed height.

Your highness 

take my hand and run away

In this poison bind.