You always ate the heart out of everything.
Left me with the dead, the putrid, and the unsought after.
Me got the stem of the apple, the dry tasteless hard part,
Myself got the thick skin, and I got the pits.
You took the juices, left us with the corpse.
Slurping and licking the flesh until it was dry, brown, and stale,
You would spit at me.
Spitting, watching me fight for your saliva on the ground,
You would snicker as we pushed, wanting nourishment,
Racing for the heavy phlegm,
We crossed each other to take what you had to give.
You thought it would make me stronger. . .
The survival of the fittest.