I''ve never seen an apple tree, but I know for sure its evil, to gather innocence, and produce a fruit, so much good, she turns red with shame, embarrassment, and a warning, to consume and partake in it, you’re either the fruit, or you’re a man, just the same, as your father who produced it, on the quest, dancing and yearning, to gather and produce the same thing, where does that leave us, the sun and the moon, your mother and father, maybe they love each other, rape, theft, and arson, maybe it’s not our business, but a tiger does not beget a dog son, the apple does not fall from the tree, all those lovely scattered seeds, drops of Jupiter, on your face, as the stars watch, and as the clouds gather, what does it matter to me, a bitch or a woman, am I the same, so hungry, sprinkling rain, rivers flowing freely, she''s also human, and under the moonlight, she''s a goddess, but maybe we dance the same...Stolen story; please report.