Are we

All not

Just bruised

Fruits whose

Skin has

Wrinkled and

Pulp has

Bittered don’t

We all

Want to

Be fresh

And washed

And coddled

Perhaps we

Weren’t plucked

To be

Eaten but

Rather placed

In a

Pie or

Preserve and

Enjoyed always

By many

When a

Man lays

Dormant and

Capped and

When plates

Shift and

From deep

Beneath a

Fire surges

All in

It’s path

Will suffer

Even mankind

The mind

Wages war

When the

Heart goes

Empty sometimes

It can’t

Contain the

Dirth of

Emotion or

Accept its

Own drought

It’s then

When levees

Are breached

Sending torrents

Of insanity

Ashore saturating

Every one