the fruitful waste

On March 28, 2016
a poem by [victoria]

My mom gave me a fruit.
It was round, brown, bitter,
and ugly. Disappointed and mad,
I threw it away and never looked
back. Long-forgotten, rotting some
place. An unknown waiting
to deposit all its chemical compounds
into the soil. Walked on,
stepped on, brought up, only
to be ignored like a useless
piece of landfill.

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