Red apple, red apple,
who will I give it to?
Hair, the colour of purple,
Jack, today it's you.
Encouraged by my soft touch,
you bite into the fruit.
Poison spreading in your blood;
Shame, is my love not good?
Another day comes,
sun high in the sky.
Jack nowhere to be seen;
just like everyone before,
he also had to die.
Now buried with my other lovers,
in the ground forgotten he lies.
'Why do you have to cause such a chaos?'
Every weeping soul continuously cries.
Well, as they say,
'Ignorance is a bliss'
Other people should start to pray,
for my red apples never miss.
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoetryWhile in English exists only one word for it, the ancient Greeks with their aim for self-understanding and knowledge found eight different varieties of love that we might all experience at some point: 1. Eros (Erotic love) - represents the idea of s...
