Apples. Oh, I love apples. The crunchy, the sweet kind. The one in the garden I'd find. Oh, if only the hate of society didn't bleach every single one I pick soft and brown before my hands could reach. Now, I'm left standing between rotten fruit. A form of society. I don't like apples anymore. Not for pursuit. And for that, I didn't even look at the tree a few feet afar, with ripe and sweet apples - all are fresh and red. I didn't. Because a bite of disappointment turns me sad.
7 October 21, 2023, 19:02 1We can keep Inkspired for free by displaying Ads to our visitors. Please, support us by whitelisting or deactivating the AdBlocker.
After doing it, please reload the website to continue using Inkspired normally.