I am a bruised apple.

Today I will fall from the apple tree like everyone else. But no one will pick me from the ground, because I have one bruise and I am not as shiny as the others. People will pick the other shiny ones that have gone through this process before over me. Tonight I will go home, and I will paint green and red over my bruise. I will clean and shine my skin. I will trim my leaves. Tomorrow, I will get picked from the tree. I will get picked because to people, I seem shiny, new, good, and better than yesterday. But it's not satisfying. Not to me. So, tomorrow night I will wash the paint off of my bruise and roll in dirt like I was before. And the next day, I will get picked again. Not by the people who picked me before. But by the girl who sees me as the apple with the bruise. But she doesn't care. Because everyone has bruises. It's just up to you whether you show them or not.