I devoured a PBJ,
As I enjoyed the peaceful view,
When we’re talking memories,
I recall a few,
From caramel candies, glasses of milk, fishing rods, and a small beach,
My everyday, I wake up and fade out, get distracted by the noise of my every disturbance. I wouldn’t dare to express my traditional daily experiences as blissful. I’ll walk to achieve the mile, but I refuse to run, I’ll have my way tonight but I’ll never love, I’ll go bungee jumping, but I must be pushed first. My restraint runs esoteric, for I am petrified I no longer have the ability to save myself, so I live with it. I carry my every failure against me with a dull texture and a gloomy cloud that screams FEAR. I once had words of encouragement in black ink tattooed to my body that was a checkpoint for wherever I would tour, but abruptly after my misfortunes I lose them, they lose me, I lose me.
We abuse food. Every year, every month, every day, every minute someone wastes food. Maybe it is harmless to you. Maybe you just didn’t want the rest of that sandwich but have you ever analyzed the real picture here. There could be millions of individuals who just did the same thing because they felt the same way. The U.S. population recorded in 2018 is 327.2 million. Now, 97.3 million of that are people who make a low income meeting just above the poverty line. Approximately 18.5 million of that number is in poverty. That is about 64% of Texas.