I am a terrorist, but only to some. I work alone in the field, all day in the sun. Prevent endless murders until I succumb.

I am light, but I do not shine. I tie birds together, but I am not twine. I may write bold letters, but hollow's my spine.

I pose in the heat every hour. Naked except for a flower. It feels such a waste, to have fruit worth the taste, for my needles make most people cower.

I exist while I'm frozen My location unchosen. A salivating fang, from edges I hang.

I'm green then I'm brown. I start high and then fall down. My flesh thick, my milk sweet, My shell like concrete. My name ends wrong, I've been a fruit all along.