I Bleed! Poem by Tess Rockenstire

I bleed! Like a trunk of a maple wood,
Slashed until I bleed.
Bucket of blood run through a conveyor,
And carried through the sugar house,
Ready to be boiled,
And turned into a syrup.

The temperature rise to a boiling point.
While the boiling and mixing is over,
The impurity shall rise,
And what is left -
A golden pure sugar
That sustains my taste bud.

Just like the heart that is imperfect;
Will goes thru trials and tribulation
Until the Golden nugget -
Will rise into a perfect pure symbol
Of a true heart without blemished.