Wood Going On Emaciated Poem by bisheng zhu

Wood going on emaciated，
Night, more rarefied。
My dream lightest，
Even ants could lift it up。
Hunger most simple
And understandable to any animal.
Even at deep night，
Its body will keep turning over，
As if worried for memorial one loss。

My neighbors,
no one woke up.
Even starving,
He uttered shout only in a dream。
Bickering at daytime，
Spittle splashed on the ground was dry thoroughly，
All was in the air.
He only saw a mask dimly，
His laugh
Was a wry smile.
But no one had see，
Only I
Picked up and made it in a sentence.