Bitter offense on dry, cracked ground
A mother walks across the sands
No one is present, no one is around
Except the son that's holding her hand
She knows the deed that she will do
Her steps are quick, her mind at ease
Soon her enemy will taste the fruit
That will come from her poisoned tree
She searched the vast sands high and low
For the perfect place in the ground
Her son asks her, for he wants to know
Why hate has his mother so bound
She stops to explain the offense she holds
And why she must follow through
She'll kill her enemy, he's told
The moment the enemy eats the fruit
She plants the tree deep in the ground
And mumbles a little prayer
The wind whistles haunting sounds
And malice hangs low in the air
Months go by, the tree grows tall
Her son has lived four years
The tree bears fruit for one, for all
The time is growing near
Her plan is simple, dark, and wrong:
The enemy will reap what he's sown
The fruit's poison is very strong
And soon victory will be her own
One day she sees the enemy creep
Towards the desert's murky sands
She hopes he'll see the fruit on the tree
And want it in his hands
Some time later the enemy returns
Her fists are clenched in rage
Her eyes begin to tear and burn
Why was the poison not gauged?
She returns home to feed her son
Wearied by anger and defeat
She wonders why the deed wasn't done
Or did the enemy eat?
When she is home her son plays
She lets him roam outside
When she calls, he doesn't answer his name
She thinks he's gone to hide.
She searches around her low and high
She walks the sands and goes near the tree
She can't believe her thoughts or her eyes
She can't believe what she's seeing.
Her son lies dead, under the tree
Victim of her vengeful pursuits
He took the place of her enemy
By eating her poisoned fruit.
