One rotten Apple : Core

Until the rains came I was lying awake on your floor wishing you ill Hoping you would burn in hell this Guy Fawkes night for all the emails you flung at me rubbing my battered face in my misery with your newfound love Sleepless Upsetting apple carts so carefully stacked with every innocent fruit, good from the start not a bad one among them Now, strewn and bruised on grass, footpaths, rolled into gutters. exhausted and seeking shelter just the rot at my core that you grew so sick of tasting every time you took a bite