I forgot how to write poetry

I forgot how to write poetry.

I used to feel words pouring out and

dropping

onto paper.

Now I'm

support

and ripped apart to be fed,

piecemeal,

into the jaws of altruism.

My work is not my own,

only there to satiate the

hunger

others fake,

as they

jam their hands, filled and overflowing with

my soul

into their gaping maws, their mouths full as they

scream for

more.

"Are you sick?" they ask, bits of me flying on their

spittle

as they demand I

give

as they

pretend

they are eating

themselves.

--J.M. Morgan, 12/04/2025

Theme : Self, Others -- "I have no mouth and I must scream"

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