Cold Are The Hands That Feed Poem by michael montgomery

warm is the light that shines upon the child's face
love is the food that feeds the starving, weak and wounded
coming from the depths of fear to change and exchange that want
or need to be forgotten
shy are the hands that try to show affection
strong are the fists that portray discipline
times of reminiscing in a room so dark
as the child grows older he understands
you can not only survive on love
to survive in this you have to understand
going hungry is life
starvation is logic
sing to a snake to awaken the fury
so long left behind
emotions rekindled after years of petty excuses
hungry is the man that remembers nothing
darkness is what follows years of self loathing
starving is the man that needs something to fill his void
and cold are the hands that feed.

by chloe