MY SUNKEN EYES
The men sitting there grossly stuff their famous faces.
Their plates piled high as ant hills
Voluminous glasses of drinks as tall as small infants
They sit there eating and
Talking about the world’s problems.
They slurp and gulp their king size beers
Bellies expanding and belts popping open
They feast and gobble up uncaringly OINK OINK.
Little do they know that I sit there with my sunken eyes
Craving through the gleaming glass window
I shiver like a leaf with my empty belly growling
I can see the feast, I can imagine the taste
But can’t get it into my belly.
I am so weak I am struggling to survive.
I manage to wave my coffee cup high above the window.
Maybe I am invisible to them.
I wonder what they are talking about
Are they talking about the homeless problem outside?
Those WONDERFUL Politicians
With Words And NO ACTIONS.
by: Ontario, Canada Grade 9 Student (2008)