the tree is dead and the fruit is rotten (the apple doesnt fall far from the tree)

sweet or rotten
the apple doesnt fall far from the tree
slowly decomposing by its roots
back to earth
back to you

maggots inside unbruised fruits
decaying quietly
spoiled beauty

grief and pain never reach me at the right time
burried under the sand and every broken down version of me
shards and seashells
seaside sickness
car crash misses

save me to fail yourself
comedic sorrow fuels the irony