Be ye ripe, or be ye bitter?
I dare not cut for fear of latter.
As pennies from my pocket thus,
would spend in vain if unripe does.
My teeth upon your flesh will tell,
if red upon you bodes me well.
My knife in hand, decision made,
I let down heavy with my blade.
Inside I see and am enlightened,
But teeth review you have past ripened.
Mush and bland I taste decay,
I missed my window yet again.
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