The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree when its limb is close to the ground,

Yet we judge, we judge that little apple for having been thrown down,

where even the loveliest look can be coated in poisons kiss,

How naive to think that in this we find our bliss,

To ruin our own perception,

we build up our own walls,

From the roots they are sturdy,

But is the apple rooted at all?

What is good and what is bad?

thing raised is different but shall they call,

to embed our own impression,

We will make hate within us all,

Poor little apple,

you have no feet to move,

Forced to just reside,

in the mind-set made for you,

you will lay,

you will wither,

you will die,

No this shant change,

for you are just an apple,

always meant to stay the same.