Fallen Fruit

My life is that of a fallen fruit
Fresh, rich and healthy as can be
Succulent and stunning
yet delicate in its ethereality
Yet, over time, it has decayed
Cursed with fowl fragrance.
Undesirable, worthless
Mold of old goals.
My wealth, my status,
was beyond most people's dreams,
as a monarch of mammon.
However, over time,
I met financial demise
I wagered myself away
as a slave of my greed.
I now beg at people’s feet
forever a voluntary victim
of the epidemic of avarice
that decays my soul evermore.
0

You might also like…

Poetry

Plan B

Nicolas Juliam

I can see myself going into my shower, quite happily, whistling. I can also remember that irresistible urge to smoke. The one that comes upon you anywhere, at any time. And you have to obey it.
So I ...  [+]

Poetry

Lynx

André Page

McGregor lifted his tired eyes towards the vast horizon. In the distance, a flock of gray geese traced a large black cloud hanging low in the sky. Loneliness weighed down on him, and he felt ...  [+]