It’s some second day of a month and I haven’t
had breakfast yet
My food stares
up at me for it indeed has
eyes .They’re open.
When mine are barely, for their stink brings along tears worse than an onion.
Grievance brings along tears when I see my people with open eyes yet dormant bodies.
They’re the signal of illness, those bulky eyes.
They’re death as one lies down motionless and I stand above. With a hungry body yet a grieving mind.
I’m not hungry...
And to eat is to digest and to
digest is to decompose and to
decompose is to give back.
In some second day of a month,
I have to go out to eat
With its smell burning the inside of my nose
Devour my own
To give back to the world
Which served me nothing
But flesh for meals so far
Consumers…
With utensils polished
Would never realize
It’s hard cleaning up messes
A cycle ever turning...
I wish I wasn’t hungry
I wish I had a fork
I wish my parents hadn’t died
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