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Rated: E · Poetry · Experience · #2272272
When Conscience Scolds The Palates

I sought an apple, saw a pie,
And wondered what to do with it;
My wrestling desires made me sigh
Because hunger told me to eat!
All fruits are born to help the flesh,
But chefs say pies could help me too;
Pies were not what I came to fetch,
But this stomach said ‘Do it; do!’
I broke my promise 'cause of food.
The wound it brings shall stay with me;
I did what I have called ‘Not Good.’
Gullet, see whom you made me be.
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