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: 

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