Posted in Poems

It defines your hunger keenly


There were no birthday cakes.
Putting food on the table won.
There were no birthday parties.
Feeding the family took all.

When you grow up being poor.
Not many doors open to you.
Kids shy away, or be mean.
A weight of charity you owe.

You never ask for anything.
There were never extras.
Leftovers did not exist.
Going hungry was real.

Life throws more lemons.
You get used to its taste.
A question of worth, always there.
Now, leftovers bring on guilt.

The introvert emerges slowly.
Of not belonging in social circles.
A tag you see in their faces.
You’d rather be reading or writing.

Can an introvert change?
You don’t do well with surprises.
Like, a surprise birthday party.
An introvert in distress.

You try to hold conversations.
A tongue twisted into naughts.
You succeed being the wallpaper.
Doomed to being inconspicuous.

The adult has achieved much.
The right to be here or there.
Yet, wanting to be alone.
The much sought after dream.

There’s no side stepping reality.
Just dancing to a different tune.
You never forget the struggles.
It defines your hunger keenly.

By C.E. Pereira