They grow in places you won't see, but they are the sweetest of things, Lilygrove Peaches are soft and fragile.
Their core is tough but the outside is easily damaged, they fall from trees often and have trouble staying clean. For the ground likes to rough them up, and ruin their pretty color, the calm amber paprika fading amongst the dirt, flesh turning a inky soot.
Making them less appealing to the floor beings that walk the forsaken ground of tortured weeds. Yet the price of these Peaches still remains the same, gentle or untamed, they are something of rarity.
Making the fingers soft when touched, the scarred fruit that holds stories and much nutrition. Its skin used for the faces of the sick and guts made into tender pies, wrapped and kept in jars or shelves. Used for jams and glazed hams with the taste resembling something of the past, bitter and tasting old yet at the same time lacking mold.
At times it can be sweeter than ever before, having the texture of a sweet candy and more. This simple fruit holds many complexities and at times it can make us forget the things that haunt us.
The thoughts we want to forget and the actions that plague our minds, reminding of us of the mistakes that we were foolish to make. The essence crawling through our skulls as it scrapes every nook and cranny it can find, driving the weak mad and making the strong secretly sad.
We might try to avoid it, but it always comes back, either in pounding pains or echoing lanes that we passed by. The simple sorrow that creates trauma to the fragile mind, evokes the opposite of the sweet fruit, creating a hardened skull but a sunken mind. Sinking so deeply, that it gets lost in the ocean, the body free falling into a spiral that only itself can understand. Outside naysayers forming questions at your lost soul, but neither will understand the deep toll.
Spirals of words forming into bubbles in your dark sea, lips sealed for the sentences start to venture into a chest without a key. How the sky seems further each day as your brain turns into mush from the absolute devious pain. Wishing that mythical fruit could take you away, you feel those fingers start to drift away. For the fruit that once held it so soft, is nowhere close to that now empty loft.
Praying for a distraction to keep you clean, for the voices in your mind are becoming mean, getting louder with each strike of time. At some point you end up drawing a line, for if you don't it will come back with an even larger attack. Hitting you harder than you can take it will do its best to make, a villain out of you in a morally grey world. Yet the souls inside it are not moral at all, and you can tell because it makes you call. Back to the origin itself, the innocent version of you that people wanted to put on their shelf.
Precious as a Lilygrove Peach, you were once something that gave you peace. But now when you look in that same mirror of time, all you can see is a lost dime. Your tears filling the very ocean that drowns you, depression taking over every sound to use. No use in being found for your acquaintances, moved on without a doubt, going on with their delusional dreams in a world that's full of everything but peace.
Lilygrove Peaches are the only thing that's left to satisfy the hunger of the anger in yourself. Pushing back every morsel of the crowd, that's twisting your voice up in a cloud. Be careful and aware of this fruit for the beings of this earth will draw claws up from the soot. That damages the very pure fruit itself, I'm here to remind you so you can protect yourself.
Keep your guards up and high, being careful of any being with a strive, for if you contain this fruit, they will snatch it from you without a clue. For beings like this are worst than a poisoned shrew. Feeding of the ones who are struck with weakness gives these creatures something to feel seen with. Stealing intact food for their cleanliness will make them forget, all the things they come to deal with.
Wiping the crimson of their hands, for they don't care for any part of man, with sin beaming in their snout, you're going to wish they had doubt.
Now, back to these Lilygrove Peaches, this envious treat, it gets its name from the poison it meets when faced with a creature of feat. Grove coming from the place where it lies, and honey dew sits and thrives. The Peaches converted the once wasteland into a place of utopia, being something from one's dreams, a fantasy or it seems.
Before the discovery it lay untouched and lost within a flower, not growing until it was faced with an unstoppable shower. Rain soaking the land with prosperity and drowning out the clarity of all reality itself. The plant withstood constant water as everything else washed quickly away, only coming back after the growth of the fruit. Sending its tantalizing magic out to sooth, the broken, lost and hungry indeed it is a wonderful fruit.
Sometimes getting lost in history for overtime the changes made it a mystery, the beings of earth stomped up their mad. Turning the utopian land into a plague, most of the fruit is gone, but it still lives on through its song. For not barren but now rarely seen, nearly forgotten in the hidden evergreen.
Not only the name but the shape was also unique, because every fruit wasn't the same, some round, square, and rectangle without a shame. Even though most prefer the sphere shape, for its presence was the best with resemblance of a regular peach.
Yet none will forget the truth, for the Lilygrove wasn't anything new.