Sat for dinner, let’s have a meal
I’m gazing left and right,
The goal's to avoid eye contact.

Swallowing,
The taste is alright but I can’t hold a fight.

That masterly skill -
A simmered misery,
Served daily.

Cooking the exact words to belittle
My stomach grows humble.

///

Parents,
I’d like to be brave but I bury
In spite of my age I hurry.