Hunger. Poem by Obrie Writes

Just how many!
How many meals,
How much can cure
This will to survive
From the ulcers of the world.

I have lived in pieces,
Solely fighting for today,
Some fight for hours!
But in the warm hills,
Someone piles food in trash.

You read right,
Trash that keeps rags
That are fit to cover me
From the worldly chills.

We worked hard,
To erect that tower
Where he sits in coziness
As we walk barefoot
On the nails that held the poles.

Mom taught me
That never should this quest
The will to survive
Take away my humanity.

It made sense then
'Lions don't eat grass'
But do the dead,
Tell any tale?

I need to live,
But am too hungry.