The ethylene that ripened you
Now makes you rot
The substance that made you sweet
Now makes you aged and sticky
You have been abandoned of almost all value
But can still be called freeWho would care
about your aging?
“Farmers”  “Consumers”
“The store”
“Discounted” or “discarded”
The moment black spots spread swiftly
You remain silent
Yearning with an intense sweetness,
Drawing diners with oxidized flesh.
Your final attempt
Flesh rich in sugar Glittering

Crystal clear