THE BUSH

A Poem by EMMIE

This poem means whatever you think it means. There's no wrong, there's no wright. The beauty of poetry is in it's simple mystery.

Persecuted by their own kind
Black berries
Used to thrive together into one bush
But then some of them became rotten
Made so sour by the absence of good care
Made so bitter by those bugs
Sucking up the sweetness
And injecting poison instead
The darker the berry the bitter the juice
Oh, those rotten berries!
Running all the good berries away
Forcing them to flee their bush
To grow on grounds foreign and unfamiliar to them
Many good berries never even make it out the bush
They just fall and lay in darkness
Until they are no more
Poor sweet black berries
Being rotten by the bitters
Persecuted by their own kind

© 2014 EMMIE

My Review

Would you like to review this Poem?
Login | Register

Reviews

Kaitlynn A. Black

Oh, I hate it when bugs get to the berries before they get completely ripe! By the time you actually should go pick them...they are done fore and wasted because of the bugs. I like this poem! It can mean so many things. I mean... I totally can see the berry being an metaphor for the human heart. Kinda like good guys finish last. Instead its the good berry rots before it's prime. ;)

XO - Kate