Hunger
I have to eat enough.
I opened up everything.
Give them a patch of lawn.
Or maybe a toast.
The first thing I learned.
Inside of cooked shopping trips.
Could be a cookie on the sidewalk.
But then they would hurt.
Shoes are the ones who feel.
Flopping over.
I have to eat more.
The monster is the one who is weirdly smudged.
They told me the dirt lives in this small house.
So do they.
I have to eat pieces.
Underneath.
They left me a snack.
A dirty plate with crumbs.
Eating crumbs as old as this place.
They told me I ate enough.
I almost agreed.
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