The Hungering

Sometimes we hunger for an unknown meal.

The stirring for something nourishing, and substantial.

Something more.


It cripples us,

tainting our soul like a ribbon of flowing crimson.

It send our minds whirling with malignant force,

crumbling the corner bits of our lives.

We hunger,

We search,

We pain,

Ignoring the destructive minor infractions we beget.


Until serendipity delivers our meal on unexpected platters.

Or worse,

The hunger perpetually taints us,

polluting our days into months and years.

Until the hungering is buried under strained resentment.




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