Loving to eat is a curse,
When everything is on your plate,
But you don’t like anything on it,
How do you express it in verse?
You don’t know where to start,
Little bites taken out of humility,
A bird nibbling out of its cart,
Covering eyes with wings for anonymity.
It’s better to starve, better to bite your tongue,
Because when you start, you’re expected to presevere.
A hym of fate at one’s funeral sung,
Lights begging to twinkle on the main room chandelier.
mayawrites 
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