The ungrateful plate, of
food to be. The strength,
lacking, hateful of this, I
see clearly. The shameful
madness, as you call to her,
pleading, for the sapping, of
your spirit, exhausted, to end.
Had you foreseen, her dreadful
will, no doubt, as it grows within
you. None can be pleased, yet still
we foster, a living, a life, he, the imposter.