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The Golden Feast

Contributed by tabby on Friday, 3rd September 2004 @ 07:52:19 AM in AEST
Topic: SadPoetry

Starving,
Trapped,
Ridiculed,
Alone.

The cell smells like decomposition,
Everything around me is dead.
The darkness spreads,
Envelops me like a thick cloak.

I get fed once a day,
Just some rice and bread.
I so thin I can see my organs,
As they struggle to provide me with life.

I dream of food,
I table laden with a feast.
Turkey, pudding, warm bread and wine,
I can taste the food in the dry mouth of mine.
I quench my thirst from a golden cup,
Set down my cutlery and weep.

The food tastes rotten,
The bread too sweet.
This mouth of mine has turned to ash.

Everything’s a dream,
The food isn’t real.
It’s taken away.
I’m back alone again.

Copyright Â© tabby ... [ 2004-09-03 07:52:19]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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