Burning feeling,
low in my belly.
I’m fat,
but it’s empty.
I didn’t finish breakfast
this morning,
because I’m a
selfish
horrible
bitch.
I got to have
a little bit,
infested fruit,
crawling with filth,
and a bite of something
bloody and sour,
but then I had to
throw the rest away
to appease the angry gods
that rule my house.
I try to fill myself with water,
but I am full of holes,
and sponges can’t
hold as much
as pitchers can.
I cut
and I cut and
I cut and I cut
where you can’t see,
and I hope they tell me
it’s fatal.
I don’t believe I will survive this.
I have given up hope
that I will ever be beloved.
I have given up hope
that I will ever stop being hungry.
I Have Given
