I Am...Unsatisfied <But Fighting Pessimism>

Woke up hungry like I ain't ate in weeks,
starving for substance. 

1.

Some may think of me as a bum;
dirtball bad like a Viking in the mud bowl.
A cloud of dust encompassing a being.

<Can't be judged by collared workers not worthy of the hammers they mistake for gavels.>

2.

Sometimes I feel like a motherless child far from the unconditional comfort of reassurance that comes with a home cooked meal.
What I would give for meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and macaroni with cheese?

<Accept the fact the she can't eat for you;

expect her to never be able to satisfy a hunger she never knew. >

3.

I find myself lost in a forest of my own fears.

Head craned

Hoping to find the sunlit path before it gets too dark

  like Poe dark

  Ravens hark "Nevermore!" from high branches.

Do they know something I don't?

Am I to return to the light Nevermore?

Breath is caught in the seal of a top button.

The collar snapped too tight

Gotta be careful of the tight;

   Sags are prone to snap.

 

<stop.

fill thyself on the air of faith.
channel a Tibetan monk.
breathe in isolation.
guide thy spirit.
attempt a sense of content. >

4. 

My gut is incomplete in feeling.
I am not satisfied.

<Yet>

This poem is about: 
Me

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