March 24, 2017
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I get home,
and ask a simple question:
“Hey, Mom. What’s for dinner?”

My least favorite food.
She forces me to eat it.
I take the first bite,
feeling like I ate rotten eggs.

I take another bite,
but it still tastes awful.
I keep eating.
Don’t want to start an argument.

It starts to feel normal,
like eating a hamburger.
My mom smiles
I eat more.

I  like this stuff.
The noodles don’t feel like worms,
and I can eat the sauce without gagging.  

I can eat this without starting arguments.
The house peaceful.
I did it.

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