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Legend speaks of a mystical tree so old,
granting any wish for a piece of gold.
A woman buried her wedding ring by its roots,
tear-streaked mutterings echo through the woods.
Accepting her offering, the tree bore fruit.
From its gnarly branches a terrified face grew.
With brewing anger and resolve in her eyes,
she bit down hard, the juice bitter, like his lies.
With every bite, she saw his face contort in pain.
Blood-red juices splattering like rain.
When she was done, face covered in red gore,
a smile appeared, she’s free. She’s no more.
Germaine Chong (Shu)
@shu.anonymous