Untitiled

I would have a home

Warm in the winter with a heater by my feet

Instead of a taped tablecloth as a window

Cool in the summer

Instead of filled with heavy, humid air

For I fear of cracking the window and exposing all my posessions to the night

And I think of nothing but this

Survival or selfishness?

It's hard to look out into the suffering of the world

When mountains of blanket wrap around you in desperation

It's hard to compose your sympathies and empathies for others

When you are deafened by the hazy growl of your stomach

If the only thing I can think to change is my own comfort

The answer is clear

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