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Hunger.

Just another poem.
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I am hungry now; hungry for happiness.
I am hearing pain from the phone;
My friend sobbing of her father who yells
and hits her.
I hear from my mother, who doesn’t believe her;
calls her life nothing more than bullshit.
I sit here with needs to get out of it;
but I can’t.

I am weakening from my empathy;
every choice I make is somehow for her survival.
I have no willing to go on; she sucks in my soul
through her sob stories.
Of how her father yells and hits her;
Of how her sister treats her like a child.
Of how her mother loves her the most,
but can’t battle either of them for her.

I cannot be involved; I have already put myself in danger.
I am plagued with the persona of laughing
in the face of danger; that I’m actually confident
about myself.
I am plagued with a lie I made up
that my mother understands me.

No pain is worse than the other.

I imagine myself wanting to do something,
even if it makes me crawl to do it.
For her.
Maybe it’s better if I leave,
Or maybe it’s better that I am mauled
By her father, by her sister, by my mother.

I cannot decide which is worse.
  and  like this.
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