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Lemons

Lemons, bitter, rude, yellow, and sour
The last thing i needed in this untimely hour

When life gives you lemons you make lemonade
But the juice stings my eyes when i cut them with my blade

So all i can do is let them ferment
But the pain grows worse with their horrible scent

I turn my head away from the now spoiled vegitation
But the stench taunts, and it teases, increasing my frustration

But i calm down, and worry not
Because the first sign of a fruits end, is always its rot




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