It seeps through pores, burrows deep within

Like apple's worm, rotting fruit from skin 

Twisting, writhing under feverish flesh 

Boring tunnels of longing, wounds still fresh

A squirming hunger, never sated 

In sweet pulp, now violated

It writhes and twists in apple's heart 

Consuming, as flesh falls apart 

Tunnelling deeper, rot expands 

Till only withered skin still stands

Core blackened, seeds defiled, undone 

The worm's insidious feast - not won, but begun.