Hunger Poem by Noon E
Hunger
Smooth surfaces stay smooth but not for long
They get carved by a machine gun's bullets
Pure things stay pure but not for long
They get tainted by a powerful man's lies
A new born is alive but not for long
Hunger's boney fingers will tug at his insides
And spill them all over his mother's breasts
The sweet baby boy will not celebrate his 15th birthday
His skull would be a home for bullets
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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8/28/2026 8:57:11 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
