(Inspired by Julie, our lecturer, handing out various objects for us to write about. I got handed a slightly mouldy Granny Smith apple and felt like doing something completely different to my usual prose-centered style.)
Once scarlet,
(Blood red, now the colour of decaying dreams, mottled aesthetic imperfections)
And dewey crisp green underneath,
(The colour of envy, rage, fresh new days with fresh new starts)
:
It is the very epitomy of poison,
Innocent as the beautiful snowy white winter's morning
Yet at the same time,
An image,
A false idol
Of innocence lost
In a garden somewhere.
Aged imperfections on the surface are the
Only clues to the symbolic significance of this
Devil's fruit.
A clever disguise.
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