Like a caterpillar in an apple
you crawled right to the core.
And now, to me, it feels like
you’ve made yourself at home.
Do I attempt to de-bug this apple,
this heart of mine?
Do I cut it right open and take you out?
But it will leave a hole all the way through,
from the skin right to the core.
Or do I seal the hole and leave you in,
where you’re at home.
Where you’ll nibble some more, until you’re done.
And slowly you will die.
Hopefully it will be in peace.
Without the conciousness that you could have been
a butterfly, had you not stayed inside.