Master of Arts
The soul of mine, I cannot find!
I’m lost in the ocean, amongst crashing waves — I’m almost blind!
Mastering of Arts, I beg of you — let the fates be kind

I have been good, haven’t I?
I’ve fed my body well and kept my healthy veins —
... my mistake was that I hadn’t fed another
anything but grains —
But, I don’t understand? I too am a man!
with needs of my own, and I support a wealthy land!
I have wives that lay by me, I feed them well with my hand
Is that not enough for you master? Sight o’foreseeable! What comes of me now? too lay like a fish? I hope that comes by faster!

The waves ripple,
the water crashing by at my feet
I scatter away, frightened by the coming dribble
The sky was turning dark — an upcoming storm was to pass by, I had no shelter and nothing here to eat

My stomach growled, too loud of a sound
It had been awhile since it’d done that, I was always kept satisfied
Now, nothing’s here — not fishes nor ground
The sky roared, electrified
The storm was approaching too soon!
No blues, No light loomed
Overhead. Only the thundering boom.

Too much to bear! Too much too weigh!
Oh Master of Arts!
I’m sorry I hadn’t looked down the lanes!
I saw them too, Ah! They had been too frail and somber!
Starving all day!

Forgive me, Master! I won’t make another...
the seas are crashing courses with their waves,
Stronger each time, “I don’t have all day to be saved!”
But lightning struck, and I swore to keep my place in line
now isn’t the time to be a swine!

Selfishness is another seed to be taken, enough to make you blind
Master of Arts
I swear to you,
I’ll pay more mind
to the frail, aching bodies of the souls
in need
I have enough — I swear it! — to feed!

Master of Arts,
Let the fates be kind..
I swear I have changed, my mind, my acts, my scroll
Amidst all
I have realized
My role

I take my pen
As i want to stand still
Applaud their pain
Everything is against their will
For their lives they had a plan.

Fearless
Being separated from their family
Look
how they're starving
Do they deserve?
Look
how they're suffocating
This isn't correct
Look
how they become homeless
Nobody wants to address this
This isn't fair.

They become more than hopeless
Snatching away their rights
Burying their dreams
Dreams of the innocent children.

three hundred pound woman
screaming my children are starving
saw it and just cried

the starving child with filthy hands
reaches quietly towards me for anything i can give
knowing from experience that cries will fall on deaf ears

i turn my face away
refusing to feed the pathetic creature
because i want some semblance of superiority over something for once in my life

because when i was starving
not for food, but for something far more filling
i too was left wanting
and i need someone to feel that desperation too

because i want that child to learn as i did
that the world is a cruel place
and that you need to learn how to feed yourself
or perish in slow starvation

because when you give away all that you have
leaving nothing for yourself to gnaw upon
you are no better than the starving masses you serve
and death is far better than what you deserve

the child and i will starve together

The first time I contemplated suicide was at the age 13.
Sleeping pills. Just like mom.
I wanted to dream forever.
Many more occurrences followed that year.

The next was at the age of 15.
Cutting. Finally had the courage.
I took a broken shard of glass and I
Finally found the anger inside of myself.

Following that was the age of 17.
Self inflicted pain. Heartache seemed worse at the time.
I dug my nails into my skin.
Making scars seemingly physical now.
I finally found a way to release the pain.

Last night,
I contemplated suicide.
I promised that I wouldn’t go through with it.
But who cares?
Who could stop me?
Who would want to?

I’m happy.
I swear, I am.
You know I am.
I only fake it a little bit.  

But sometimes,
I don’t think I can do this anymore.
I don’t think I can live anymore.
At least not by myself.

I hated myself,
And time and time again.
The hate seeps through the bleeding cuts.

Sometimes I starve myself.
Sometimes I hurt myself.
Sometimes I hate myself.  

Sometimes I contemplate suicide.

But tonight
I cut the pen into paper.
Bleeding out my vulnerability in hopes to die poetically.

Don’t starve to life
An emaciated buffet unveiled
A feast of scraps
Hungry for your nutritious deceit
Portioned promise
Bloated truth dripping
And yet you're full