i look at that canvas and stare at it with my pupils

all i can see was nothing short of a fruit bowl

the fruit was so painted nice

it wouldn't matter the type of paint

it just matters how it puts in the mind

the painting is right in front of me

i'm looking at it, it's still a bowl

but it's so lonely

i'm not hungry or anything close to hungry

for food that is, it is for a company

yet there are just so many fruits

but it still looks lonely

it's making me so bummed out

yet i can get my own real fruit to eat

but i look back and it's trapped

it's like a dream of one frame that goes on forever

would it be death to not stop looking

representing such seclusion

couldn't do anything more or less

just had to stay tranquil

just like the fruit, no one will ever eat

based off of the real or the wax fruit

still could've been good to eat

not to look or preserve for centuries

nothing lasts perpetually

so the day that fruit is gone

is the day we are all gone

some say we're already gone

gone forever yet still living

living a dream that's not a dream

but a fantasy in life

a life not worth living

but for the time or time to be

so lonely

lonely as one can be

now i'm hungry