i thought i was

I thought I was an apple

I mean, I live in a box surrounded by other apples

I'm shiny and red; I even wear that stupid little sticker just like all the other apples

I fell off a tree, landed in a truck, and now I'm here

but your hand descends and then it leaves again, pushing me aside, picking all the other apples
slowly emptying the crate, leaving me alone at the bottom

because I'm not the biggest apple

because the wax has worn off and I'm no longer shiny

because I'm bruised and ugly

because of the hint of sourness that grows stronger and stronger with each bite
because of the worms that have begun to burrow through my insides

because I'm two weeks past my expiration date and should've been tossed a long time ago

I thought I was an apple

because I thought you liked apples

but I don't think I want to be an apple anymore