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Beckett Green
Poems
Mar 2021
Starved
I’ve settled for the scraps for so long,
snapping up what gets tossed my way
like a feral dog
desperate for sustenance.
So frantic am I to consume
these crumbs of nourishment,
ever-focused on the next bite,
that savoring each taste isn’t possible.
Instead I willfully ignore the lack of real nutrition,
and anxiously await the next throw.
I can only imagine what a full meal from you would taste like.
Written by
Beckett Green
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