The cat has my tongue,
And the hunger gnaws.
We try to move on,
But our mouths won’t allow.
It becomes something that you just cannot define.
The cat has my tongue,
But the hunger climbs,
Up and up to the mind.
It seizes you and shakes you,
And won’t let you move on.
The cat has my tongue,
And I try to focus,
The glass half full,
The plate is empty.
My heart is cold as the bare metal disc,
That sits without meaning upon the worn table wood.
The cat has my tongue,
But it sits in the corner,
Unmoving, uncaring,
And hungry most of all.