1 poem

by Gabriella Klema

Century High School

i have more in common with
pineapples than with humans

pineapples are prickly sons of bitches
available for all to buy
people purchase the pineapples
like they’re some
display items
the illusion that
“hey we’re healthy people that eat fruit”
so it sits
and waits

finally there's an
excuse to eat it
you force your knife
into the tough skin
destroying the exterior
you throw away what you
don’t like
it begs and screams for you to stop
yet you continue
you scrape out all the sweet tasting fruit
and it’s left an empty shell
of its former self.