Rotten Fruit Poem by Paula Glynn

Old fruit sits in a bowl on the kitchen table,
But he doesn't do anything with it,
He just sits and stares with his cup of tea,
Thinking of changes and how his life will be,
He is growing older, just like the fruit,
And his problems go in a loop,
He is so confused, just does not know what to do,
Dark thoughts clouding his mind,
Making him question other people's motivations,
Should he do this, should he do that,
When it is other people's wallet getting fat,
He knows he should be the one who's got the cream,
But if he hears that name again, he will scream,
For this was his dream, now taken away,
And maybe in this house he should stay,
But as he looks outside at the autumn rain,
He thinks maybe just going ahead and doing it,
Will save his pain,
For he hasn't got a leg to stand on,
And he is deteriorating like the rotting fruit in the bowl,
And it seems he has sold his soul,
But to whom, he doesn't yet know,
He just hopes he will rise from this low,
And find a place where old flavours can be thrown away,
Like the rotting fruit in the bowl.