He told me to be passive aggressive
Holding a gun to my head.
I dropped
Tomatoes,
The seeds arraying into diamonds.
Like blood-
Oranges when punctured with a knife.

My nature was bruised,
I had nothing left
But millions of tears
Collected within leaves
Above my head.

The only support I had
Was the branch-
Holding me like a soldier
Passing weapons of fruit.

I reach into the golden sky,
Shuffling around the hope
Trying to find the solution….

Grasping at things in this world
Can only yield two results:
Life or death.
I have chosen something more.