Crushed

Folder: 
June 2002 Poetry

The finest of fruits,

are crushed,

to capture their essence,

of life.

Crushing them,

to get their flavor,

their finest juices.

To get the best,

out of them.

I am like a fine fruit,

that’s been crushed.

The best qualities,

of my life,

have been squeezed out of me.

My joy.

My happiness.

The very essence,

of my being.

All taken from me,

as you crush me,

into nothing.



~*~ Jill ~*~

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wrote this on 6-26-02.

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poetvg's picture

I KNOW
WHAT U MEAN
BY THIS

Sandra Davis's picture

Bravo