Dear Hunger,

 

Please stop knocking at her door.

You turn her stomach into a thunder storm

but all she can do is ignore.

 

She tries to use an umbrella

to resist the rain

but every drop that hits her

seems to bring more pain.

 

Sometimes you do stop knocking

that's when she falls asleep

but then the cold awakens

and nibbles on her feet.

 

I'm writing for my friend

She's known as the world

Her children's stomachs whimper

and have began to curl.

 

She told me to tell you

She wishes you a nice end

Extend your ears out to her

and promise you will listen.

 

- A Friend of the World