cleaning through poetry

I've been cleaning out my poetry folder and found this. . .and just couldn't resist!:

I hate the way we call the insides of fruit ‘flesh,’ as though we were cannablizing our own. With every crisp bite into an apple we rip off a chunk of meat from another person. With every slice into the skin of an orange, we flay our brother. With the dicing of pears into cute little wedges, we are filleting our parents and children. ‘Our breathren are already in the field.’ How can we stand idle while these atrocities occur? Join me in my cause, good fellows, and together, we will fight for the rights of fruit! To strive, to seek, to find, but not to yield!