The fruit that cried

The fruit that cried was shaken down

By winds that never could

To fall from trees on rotten ground

Too far from royal wood

Upon that crown resides a nest

Whose bird is never there

It feeds the young

With rotten worms

Then leaves without a care

As wind gives way to rain above

The rotten worms arise

From soil that fosters

Violence, more punishment and lies

The parasite is paranoid

It doesn’t know its own

In search of any place to stay

This forest be a home