The Pear Tree

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Shriveled, rotting pears

Scattered across famished soil

Underneath the harvesting tree

Her back aches

As she scrambles to pick them up

Watching ants and mush

Ooze out like puss 

As they fall into her basket

The now estranged ants yearn for their collapsing home

Familiarity masked the truth 

That they were suffocating

In their own content