Delicious Prejudice

I cry.

Our Earth a wilted flower,

left without the hope of rejuvenation,

begging diligently for its thirst to be quenched.

A man cries.

Riots, for water.

Protest, for food.

A crumbling sugar cookie,

disintegrating, piece by piece,

until it's nothing but dust;

delicious perhaps, but inedible.

That,

is,

Earth.

A neverending, black abyss,

the treacherous habitat,

for all hidden darkness,

in the world.

Hunger aches, in the belly of the beast,

it's low growls, fill the cave;

of death.

Red flurries swirl in the night, landing by a predator; a beast.

Hope, at last? Light? Someone with food, to feed our soul? A person to provide invitational fear I can feast upon? Mmm. If my thirst cannot be quenched, will my hunger diminish?

Starvation,

is,

a problem.

A problem; starvation is.

One, I've never had to face,

yet my human race doesn't understand they're a disgrace.Babies die from hunger every day, and you're worried about a perfectly cooked fillet?

A beast cries.

Hope, is lost forever.

Light, is not to be found.

Maybe there can be hope, after all;

the light can only be found in the dark.