The food is consumed
Down into my being
And the drink is swallowed
To become part of me
My stomach still open
I am not yet full
Yet cautious now
I resist the pull
For the rice pot I check
And to my horrors I find
It is mostly empty
Now this rice is not mine
For if take the last rice
Straight from the pot
I must take a new batch
And that I want not
So I close the lid
And grab some chips
Then retreat to my room
And eat it with dip
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1 comment:
lol, i like how you made a poem about not liking to make new rice. you lazy, lol.
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