The Fruit

There was once a little girl inside,
that didn't have to run and hide,
One that wasn't afraid of the world,
What she felt, she spoke.

She had trust in the world,
She never felt the cold,
She had faith in God,
She had faith that he'd help her do what's hard.

Every little moment, she ceased,
Every little thing, she treasured,
She spread light wherever she went,
And to the things she could do, she knew no end.

One day she went to the tree,
Like a bird, just as free,
Her mother had told her not to eat,
The fruit that hung by the branch, looking so sweet.

She looked at it, and widened her eyes,
In the background, her mother cries,
Don't dear, it's not a good fruit,
She didn't bother to look.

She reached out with her hand,
But couldn't seize it,
She was a little girl, yes,
But determined and stubborn nevertheless.

Her eyes were bright and full of light,
Who knew, it would be the last time,
Somehow the fruit fell into her hand,
Who knew, it would be the last time she would stand.

The bright red fruit that she held,
She took a bite of it, and she felt,
The bright red turn into a dull shade of nothingness,
black takes over as she falls to her knees.

She drops the fruit,
She looks at her hand,
She realizes what's happening,
And lays down on her back.

She looks up at the tree and the sky,
And on her face there's a smile,
She shuts her eyes,
She says a small goodbye.

Just like curiosity killed the cat,
I saw the girl fade,
I saw her trust in the world,
Go away.

Three days later I came back where she once laid,
I didn't see her, I'd seen her fade,
With the tree, lying under it,
I saw the fruit, it had turned grey.