Echo

Hunger.

From age 3, I knew what it was like to be hungry.

Hunger was a father leaving to find work, only having to tell his family that there was none,

Hunger was a mother who had became so withdrawn that she spent more time in her head than in
reality,

Hunger was a baby crying silently into the night, the shadows more company than a parent's hug,

Imaginary friends haunting your doorstep like a summer rain, cool but gone in a flash.

When I was 10, I learned another type of hunger,

Hunger for happiness,

Parents' yelling shaking the walls,

Crack the foundation of an already broken home,

Mom slamming the door, claiming "she needed space,"

Oh child, why did she abandon you?

I crave the hunger for normality,

Stepmom and brother,

Why can't dad just be happy spending time with me?

Maybe that would be selfish,

But the hunger is too much.

The summer when I was 14,

I spent the summer with my mom,

One meal a day, no love a day home,

Contradicting emotions echo on my wall,

Friends go shopping,

Wonder why I don't pay for my own,

They finally find out when they see my home,

Don't want to visit because they feel the hunger inside,

I don't blame them.

At 15, I can eat normally,

Though I eat like I am starving,

Because if I eat enough maybe I can fill this hole,

Overtaking, drowning out background noise,

Soul crushing, chewy, all-consuming,

Hunger.