Loneliness shakes through me, Retching on the emptiness of my soul, Bile spews forth. Considering the appetizers, I choose the one that turns me again. What will settle my stomach In this dark hour? Before me I only see acid, That will bite deep into me. Emaciated I long for satiation. Empty I seek to be full. I turn from the feast before me.
This poem is Copyright (c) 1994 Kerry Brodt. All rights reserved.
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