I didn't realise that the apple was poisoned until I had taken a bite;
And in this moment it tastes like all the pies I've eaten at 2 am for comfort because I saw my stomach out the bottom of my t shirt;
Falling.
Because I need to wrap the evil in sugar and butter and sweet. Because I need something for substation.
And it tastes like;
Pouring my soul into you at 3am on a Xbox party while we discussed the prospect of rape accusations...
And I'm not afraid to mention his name in this poem because he wont read this poem,
Because he doesn't care enough to read my poems,
Because they're all I care about.
It tastes like;
Fires in Australia...
Like too hot,
Like the pie was too hot,
The apples burned my throat,
I didn't know sugar could be this painful,
I didn't know pastries could hurt me,
But pastries hurt me when I look down and see my thighs,
My thighs could put out the fires in Australia.
I am crumbling, like ________.
And it tastes like;
Leaving the group chat for 4 hours and coming back to Kendall Jenner's hip bones piercing me like daggers in my hip bones but she cant reach my hip bones because they are surrounded in fat made from comfort...
It tastes like writing on my bed because the desks edges are to sharp for me.
It tastes like walking with my keys between my fingers because the cold steel fills the gaps in my hands so well, it mimics your hands in mine...
It takes like everything is exploding because I can taste the juice of the apples as I sink my teeth into it, and the poison is there and I know its there but I'm still eating the apple.
And Snow White and her clingfilm skin, and her bottle cap wrists , and her hair curly in the perfect way doing what 7 men want her to do.
And it tastes like everything that's gone wrong and everything that's gone right at the same time.
And the poison, doesn't taste like poison;
The poison tastes like you;
And You,
You,
You taste like blame and guilt and fear...
And when the poison hits the bottom of my stomach, where it will find no other foods because I don't eat the pastries anymore, the only thing I'm eating is the flesh and blood from my bottom lip because I chew on it too much...
But Id rather have the poisoned apple than no apple at all...
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Why the world is like posion apples..
PoetryWhy the world tastes like posioned apples...a slam poem about tthe world from a teenage girls perspective.