He's making me a dinner:
steak, corn,
and mashed potatoes.
For dessert
warm, homemade chocolate chip cookies
Netflix.
Woke up to this:
Chicken,
cheesy potatoes with bacon,
and lasagna.
My dad: the real MVP
Tomorrow,
when my stomach feels better,
I'm going to eat so many pickles.
The fact I can't open this jar of pickles is making me angry.
I feel like I am always hungry now.
I just want spicy food and chocolate.
I just want to eat a bunch of Hot Pockets right now.
Five Hot Pockets for ten dollars
I'm okay with this.
Too bad the school gives them four chicken nuggets
and an apple.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem