Life Is a Lemon, and I Can’t Get Out

He picked up the lemons that Fate had sent him and started a lemonade-stand. — Elbert Hubbard
Lemon grove, courtesy of Pixabay

All my life,
I’ve been told,
To take those lemons
And make lemonade ice cold.

Nauseated by lemonade,
I ventured out — 
Lemon meringue, lemon dill fish,
Whiskey sours and hot totties without a doubt.

Always in a lemon grove,
Beauty and colors and smells galore
But never understanding,
Wanting more than what’s in store.

Trapped within that garden not-so-fair
Quietly wandering in delusional wonder
Until panic and wanderlust set in
And I feel like going under.

My lips are parched,
My teeth are damaged with worn enamel,
Lemons turn my stomach inside out,
My lemon grove sentence cannot be annulled.

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