My last breath feels inevitable.
Food, a phrase once so fruitious,
Now feels so forgettable.
Picking the apple from Eden,
An action so regrettable.
I claw and I clamber,
You believe that I committed perjury
One measly morsel of food is all that I ask for.
Yet you deny me this luxury,
I am no cardinal sinner.
Let God be my judge,
Lord above, please listen to my prayers.