Am I bitter than
The sour taste of grapes
Fruitless
Is my well being
To an end result
Measuring the true meaning
Before I fail
Into a salad of green spoiled leaves
For no mixture
Is capable
As my dressings is sealed
With an unclean hand
May the tongue of thievery
Wash my mouth dry
As germs settle in
To bask upon the glory
While conquering
My thoughts