Taboo

I don’t know what I did,

other than peal my rind.

Aside from that,

what was my crime?

Not too long ago,

I was Samuel Adams,

leading my tea party.

Now I’m nailed to a crucifix,

with a crown of thorns,

warping around my cranium,

and impaling my skin.

Adding up to my ticket to exploitation.

I bit the fruit,

allowing its juice to consume me.

I swopped spit

kissing a girl.

Let’s face it,

my heart burst out of its cage,

and bounced away from you.

I’m no virgin to your standards,

and your standards make you a whore for fear.