Mayapple/American Mandrake

I give of my fruit, willingly

You may partake this, of me, without harm

Beware my deep roots

Those that connect to primal realms

My underworld brethren, loamy elven sprites

Like they

I shall strike you down

For the wariness I harbor in my core

Of human hands

.

Tend me

And extract gently, with ritual

My seeds

My seeds

A violent contraction

Will succumb you

Your innards seizing

I, such a “pretty” plant

So tender, so fragile

I

Will

Strike

You

Down

.

Eat of my fruit,

But sparingly oh greedy human

As even this gift

Holds potential for

Your suffering

.

Respect me

And all of the hidden

Seemingly

Inert

Ones

You pass by in the forests

.

Remember,

We are only cultivating you with our outbreath

So that one day

You may feed

Our great, connected body

.

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