My mother and I take a trip down memory lane,
See the glorious plates of love & peace fade,
Replaced with the sounds of hungry bellies growling
Nothing could ever be so utmost foul.
I remember the days that I'd go without food,
Monday Tuesday Wednesday, never good.
Friday would be payday, heavenly, food in the fridge.
Saturdays maybe Sundays would be my chance,
Just to go through Hell all over again.
Momma would try and give me all,
But I couldn't let her succumb and fall,
To the parasite that is money withdrawals,
Going to this bill or to that.
I couldn't let her starve herself,
Just for a child she's raising herself.
So I shared the food just meant for me
and so we ate the food for today,
And tomorrow, and next day, that day.
All I now know is a belly so full,
What I would give to keep this up too.
My pain is no joke,
My past is not a memory,
Because for some it is the present,
And they might always be hungry.
These poems were written by young poets