DevelopmentA Poem by SorenInfant tantrum all emotion, little insight does it possess Pain's response vented in tears no control, patience even less Young fruit is green, holds hard to the tree, sucking from mother's blood As it grows it's ripeness shows, juicier than the bud Soon it loosens matures and is no longer bitter to the taste From the bough picked this fruit can not be replaced
© 2026 Soren |
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Added on May 19, 2026 Last Updated on May 19, 2026 |

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