Blackberry Pie 🥧~ poem

🥧🥧🥧

The pie is on the counter,

That you told me not to eat,

Fruit flies buzz by,

Lighting there,

Attracted to the sweet,

And I swat them away,

The pie smells strange,

Not fit to eat,

I dare not move it,

For you told me not to touch,

Not even a crumb,

It is leaking,

The blackberries gush like blood,

Their juice is on the granite,

Bubbled and dried,

My brother tried to cut a slice,

He told me it was dumb,

I threw him out,

I protected your pie,

You were saving it for Sunday,

Sunday came and went,

We buried you on Monday,

But I won't touch the pie,

Because I didn't forget. 

🥧🥧🥧