Wrinkly fruit. Gone-to-waste.
Leftovers. Disposed in haste
Shame or an unraveled state.
Unravelling, repairs to make
Consciences, expectations to placate.
All plans no purpose.
Life is like a beautifully drawn up menu.
Left with wrinkly ingredients gone worthless.
Time waits for no-one.
I don’t know what’s worse wrinkly vegetables in the back of the fridge or frozen ones.
The texture’s dead either way.
Neru on ko-fi!