You picked me
Like fruit from a tree.
You pushed the leaves
Aside to be able to reach me,
You were initially attracted
By my coloring and texture.
You expected my center to taste
As sweet as my exterior looked.
But you put me back on the tree
Because I wasn’t ripe enough.
You picked me
Like a book on a shelf
You brushed the cobwebs
Aside to be able to get to me.
You were drawn to
My attractive cover and title.
You expected my content to
Be as interesting as my exterior.
But you put me back on the shelf
Because I was too dramatic for your taste.