i'm not hungry
ravenous creature
feeding on scraps and whispers
tired of waiting
no longer sitting
patiently or silently
the new world of scavenging
unable to reap
the nutrients to survive
to live in this hell
resorting to bones
sucking at rotting marrow
until they are hollow
no one comes to help
when there is nothing else left
but a shriveled corpse
This poem is about:
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: