Creeping down a path,

Desiring a sweet, delicate snack.

My eyes dart back and forth

with no avail.  

Smashed, withered, rotten.

My innards roar like a lion,

hunting for survival.

My torn feet ache, and

my clothes are tattered in rags.

I'm lost, without a map.

Silently I scour the grapevines

with no reason.  All is gone,

away with the season.

Pains of hunger linger,

never satisfied.

An endless drought exists

within my heart.

Compassion is forgotten,

even by Earth.

I leave the grapevine without

nourishment, without hope.

The End

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