Spoiled Fruit
Purplish-red in my mind's-eye the bruise
Yea, Liberty she's called, but we all lose.
Forward turn wheels she's tipping the balance
Yea, Justice for all, she's blinded by trance.
Survivors are slipping through cracks and creeping,
And ever more virulent their prose,
Exponentially they spread their horrifying dread,
Watch as the spoiled fruit grows.
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Submitted on June 19, 2010
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 17 sec read
- 0 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | A A X X X B X B |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 342 |
Words | 54 |
Stanzas | 8 |
Stanza Lengths | 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1 |
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"Spoiled Fruit" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 13 Jun 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/84911/spoiled-fruit>.
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